Brignac retires from clerk's office after 31 years there

“31 years of working at the Clerk of Court’s office, has come and gone,
And now it’s time to wish J.L. farewell and send him on home.”
That’s the first stanza of a poem written by clerk of court employe Chasity Vizinat, signed by all clerk of court employees, framed, and presented to J.L. Brignac. He now has it hanging on his living room wall.
Brignac, 73, summed it up at his home Wednesday: “It’s time.” He began working at the clerk of court’s office January 1, 1972, and he worked there until October 1976.
Then he worked for Pitre Ford, then he worked as a cook offshore, then at Deville Lumber, then again offshore until he was laid off during the oil industry crunch. So he went to work as an engineering timekeeper at the then-new Ville Platte sewer plant.
But he always thought that working in the clerk of court’s office was his “favorite job.” so he went back there in February 1987.
Clerk of Court Randy Deshotel remembers how Brignac became so familiar with property -- such as boundaries of lots in subdivisions -- in the parish, he could go right to where the map was recorded in the clerk’s office when people with questions about property came to the clerk’s office. He also was a bookkeeper, processing paperwork involving civil suits or marriage licenses. He was a file clerk, and in 1999 became deputy clerk, filling in whenever the clerk wasn’t at the courthouse.
His former co-workers like to talk about his habits, like when he would say, “What the living hell?” when something went wrong. He doesn’t know where he got that from, and he may well have originated it. It’s one of the “J.L.isms” that his former co-workers talk about.
He was known for a certain amount of deviousness, like when he would find out where Cokes were in courthouse offices so he wouldn’t have to pay for one from the vending machine.
He’ll keep seeing people he worked with, and others, when he has them over to his house for Wednesday night supper or to watch football games.
Brignac said he doesn’t fish or hunt, although he used to enjoy cooking at a hunting camp. But he does spend a lot of time in his garden, where he grows a variety of vegetables, including red peppers, which he uses to make hot sauce.
In December, after the peppers have ripened, he processes the peppers in a blender, strains the seeds and pulp out and he doesn’t need to measure the ingredients as he produces about 70 bottles of the sauce. He calls the hot sauce “Trois Chiens” in honor of himself and his two little dogs, Tetye and Oscar.
It’s a little on the hot side, but people have suggested to him that if he made enough of it, he could make good money selling it. But he says he doesn’t want to hassle with all of the health department requirements, like getting a license and using special equipment.
His retirement party was not a surprise one, mainly because his fellow workers knew he wanted to invite family -- brothers Billy and Brent and sisters Claire Horton and Janice Soileau.
But Deshotel did tell him not to come to work the morning of the party so the clerk of court staff could set up for the event.
But Vizinat’s 16-stanza poem was a surprise. And the last stanza reads:
“J.L. we wish you happiness the rest of your days,
And may you continue to be set in your ways.”