Signature: Lee Poche

LEE POCHE ENJOYS A BONFIRE SO MUCH that he not only builds one every Christmas Eve on the levee just down the road from his Paulina home, he builds another for New Year’s Eve in his spacious backyard.

But it’s the ones on the levee that attract crowds from all over for the annual event up and down the Mississippi River, from Poche’s hometown of Hester through Convent, Lutcher and Gramercy. Legend has it that the fires help guide Santa down the river or parishioners to Midnight Mass. The tradition started in St. James Parish, some believe in the late 1800s.

And these are not just any bonfires. No, Poche starts with wood from a willow tree.

“Personally, I don’t like to cut an oak tree down, because it takes so long for that tree to grow,” he says. “Out of respect for the tree, I don’t cut it down.”

Every year, bonfire builders get permission in late November to drive their trucks up on the levee to get wood. That’s when Poche finds his willow trees.

“You look for the straightest willow trees you can find, which isn’t easy, because they’re kind of a crooked tree,” he says. Poche’s structures are about 16 feet high. He uses six poles, forming a teepee-like structure with another pole in the middle, all driven into holes about three feet deep.

“Some people get real extravagant,” he says, “but I just go for the traditional bonfire.”

And he’s careful: “Every year you hear of someone getting hurt by one falling because they didn’t do it right.” Builders have to have a permit and insurance.

Once built, fires need fuel to burn—dried driftwood from the river, cane reed, diesel fuel (gas, he learned the hard way, can explode).

Poche, who works in operations at Marathon Oil, and his wife Ashley have three kids. He learned the art of bonfire building from his dad, Terry. Now, Poche is teaching his oldest, 11-year-old Ethan.

Poche remembers building a bonfire on his own at about 15, chopping the wood with a handsaw and moving it by bicycle. “We built them the old way like my daddy and them. They never had chainsaws,” he says.

Now? “A chainsaw and a trailer on a truck,” he says with a laugh.

Regardless of the method, the result is the same. The fires are lighted at 7 p.m., triggering a big party along the river, with folks walking the levee and watching them burn.

“There’s a great feeling of accomplishment,” he says with a smile. “I build it for my family and friends to come enjoy it, and they come from everywhere. Different states. This road out there (LA 44 on the river), there are buses of tourists. It’s unreal. It will take an hour to go three miles to Lutcher.”