DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'm going to give it to you straight — with a little room to breathe. Somewhere in Prussia, in April of 1842, a boy named Louis de Planque came into the world. Nobody could've guessed that boy would one day be the most recognizable figure on the streets of Corpus Christi, Texas — six feet tall, two hundred pounds, dressed head to toe in leather leggings, a serape, and a feathered Tyrolean hat.
But we're getting ahead of ourselves. De Planque immigrated to Mexico during the American Civil War era, and by 1864 he was working in Matamoros — right there on the border, watching history move across the river in bales of cotton. Because that's exactly what was happening.
The Confederate cotton trade had turned Brownsville and Matamoros into boomtowns, and de Planque, who'd opened a photography studio in Brownsville by then, found himself in exactly the right place. Both Union and Confederate troops were stationed in the area, and de Planque photographed them. He also sold tintypes, Cartes de Visite, frames, stereoptic equipment, and slides.
The man knew how to run a business. Now, Texas has a way of testin' people. And 1867 brought the first test.
A hurricane came through and dealt heavy damage to both of de Planque's studios, took out valuable equipment, and would've broken a lesser operator entirely. Instead — and this is the part worth savoring — de Planque walked out into the wreckage and photographed it. Then he rebuilt.
Within two years he'd opened studios in Indianola and Corpus Christi both. But Texas wasn't finished with him. As de Planque was preparing to close his Indianola studio, the 1875 hurricane struck.
He and his wife barely survived. Barely. Most people, after two hurricanes, might take that as a sign.
De Planque took it as a fundraising problem. He organized a lantern show, raised enough money to purchase new equipment, and revived his Corpus Christi studio. That's where he'd spend the rest of his career.
Corpus Christi took to him — or maybe he took to Corpus Christi. They called him Don Luis. And Don Luis was not a man who faded into the background.
At six feet and two hundred pounds, dressed in those eccentric costumes, he cut a striking figure at parties and local events. Local lore held that no local or visiting celebrity could escape a session in de Planque's studio. That's the kind of reputation you don't manufacture.
You earn it, one portrait at a time. He married twice. His second wife was Eugenie J.
Robert, a Frenchwoman, and de Planque trained her as a photographer herself. On May 1, 1898, he died of a stroke in Corpus Christi. But the studio didn't go dark.
Eugenie continued to operate the photography business for a number of years after his death — carrying forward the work of a man born in Prussia, shaped by a border boomtown, tested twice by Gulf hurricanes, and remembered in feathers and a serape on the streets of South Texas.
What the marker says
Born in Prussia in April 1842, Louis de Planque immigrated to Mexico during the American Civil War era. By 1864 he was working in Matamoros and soon opened a photography studio in Brownsville, Texas. During the American Civil War, the confederate cotton trade transformed Brownsville and Matamoros into boomtowns, which helped de Planque’s business. In addition to photographing both union and confederate troops stationed in the area, de Planque also sold tintypes, Cartes de Visite, frames and stereoptic equipment and slides. Despite sustaining heavy damage to both his studios and losing valuable equipment in the 1867 hurricane, he managed to photograph the storm damage. In the two years after the storm, he opened studios in Indianola and Corpus Christi. As de Planque prepared to close his Indianola studio, the 1875 hurricane struck there and he and his wife barely survived. Using a lantern show to raise money, de Planque purchased new equipment and revived his Corpus Christi studio, where he spent the rest of his career. Called “Don Luis” in Corpus Christi, the six-foot, 200-pound de Planque was known to love parties and cut a striking figure by attending many events dressed in eccentric costumes, such as leather leggings and a serape topped with a feathered tyrolean hat. Local lore stated that no local or visiting celebrity could escape a session in de Planque’s studio. He died of a stroke in Corpus Christi on May 1, 1898. He married twice and trained his second wife, Frenchwoman Eugenie J. Robert, as a photographer. She continued to operate his photography business for a number of years after his death. (2014)