COURSEY • HARRELLS F E R R Y • PA R K V I E W • MILLERVILLE •
OLD JEFFERSON • SHENANDOAH • TIGER BEND • WHITE OAK
THE SOUTHEAST
ADVOCATE T H E A D V O C AT E.C O M
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W e d n e s d ay, J a n u a ry 21, 2026
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Ms. Rachel is a modern-day Mister Rogers. This was my first encounter with her. I’ve started 2026 with a song loved by millions. It’s new to me, but it’s now chiseled into my brain. One verse goes like this: “Icky sticky sticky sticky sticky bubble gum, bubble Herman gum, bubble Fuselier gum Icky sticky sticky sticky sticky bubble gum, bubble gum, bubble gum Makes your hands stick to your head And you pull ’em, and you pull ’em, and you pull ’em away!” It turns out that bubble gum also sticks to your elbows, tummy, ears, knees, mouth and other body parts. Who knew? Apparently 68 million people — that’s how many times the video has been viewed in its five years on YouTube. This same singer’s YouTube channel has amassed 13.5 billion views. Yes, that’s billion with a B.
STAFF ILLUSTRATION
PROVIDED PHOTO BY AMAZON
‘100 First Words’ is researched and written by the YouTube phenomenon and educator Ms. Rachel.
Folks who keep track of such things estimate the creator’s net worth is between $10 million and $50 million. Perhaps it’s time to dust off my accordion and come up with some icky sticky zydeco. The bubble gum song was my introduction to Ms. Rachel, a beloved educator and entertainer for babies, toddlers and their parents. Credit for the revelation goes to Tatum, my grandson who just turned 1. Tatum’s vocabulary is limited to “yah” and “dah” right now. But I bet he’ll be saying “icky sticky” right after he starts walking. Tatum’s world stops when Ms. Rachel is on TV. There’s no
ä See MS. RACHEL, page 2G
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Mor e t han ‘Callin’ Baton Rouge’: Capit al cit y ment ioned in ot her not able song s BY JAN RISHER, ROBIN MILLER and MADDIE SCOTT Staff writers
In Baton Rouge, one song sums up the city to a degree that it rarely needs naming. It’s the one people shout in unison, the one that rumbles stadiums and registers on seismographs. It’s mandatory for wedding receptions, tailgates and moments when the city wants to hear itself reflected back. “Callin’ Baton Rouge” is woven into the city’s identity. It is shorthand for home, whether you live in the Capital City or not. But Baton Rouge shows up in other songs, too — not as loudly, not as proud. In those lyrics, the city is an opening line, a passing reference, a place someone is headed or leaving behind.
Busted flat Was Kris Kristofferson really
busted flat in Baton Rouge to inspire the first line of “Me and Bobby McGee”? Kristofferson wrote the song in 1969 at the suggestion of Monument Records producer Fred Foster. The two, therefore, shared writing credit. The song was first recorded that same year by country-pop singer Roger Miller of “King of the Road” fame. Then, Janis Joplin did her take on the song in 1971, and it’s her voice that most people hear at any mention of that first line. But, as Kristofferson told “American Songwriter” magazine in 2021, the line doesn’t exactly refer to a specific place within the city but to a journey in between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Kristofferson, who had trained as a helicopter pilot in the military, said he wrote the song while working in the Gulf of Mexico. Earlier, after he completed a tour
of duty in Germany, the Army offered him a job teaching at West Point. Kristofferson, the son of a U.S. Air Force general, turned it down to pursue a career in songwriting. He told the magazine: “At the time I was flying around Baton Rouge. That is probably why Baton Rouge and New Orleans were in it. But it was an idea that Fred Foster had given to me. He called up one time when I was about to go back down to the Gulf for another week of flying and he said, ‘I got a song title for you: Me and Bobby McGee.’ ” Kristofferson said the idea of a “writing on assignment” gave him writer’s block at first. “But then the idea just started growing in my head,” the late singer-songwriter said. “And I can remember when the last line came
ä See SONGS, page 2G
Were German POWs imprisoned in La.? Buildings in the Prisoner-of-War SubCamp No. 7 in Port Allen were surrounded by wire fences and monitored by guard towers during World War II. PROVIDED PHOTO BY WEST BATON ROUGE MUSEUM
BY ROBIN MILLER Staff writer
Ernest Gueymard spent Dec. 15, 1943, at Prisonerof-War Sub-Camp No. 7 in Port Allen for a feature story for the State-Times, The Advocate’s then-afternoon sister newspaper. “The swish-swish of the cane knife is resounding over West Baton Rouge’s broad sugar fields as wielded by sturdy young German prisoners of war,” Guey-
mard wrote. There were approximately 300 “broad-shouldered young men” who were living in the Port Allen prison of war sub-camp in 1943. “The prisoners, who appear to be in their early twenties, are grappling with an industry new to them and are doing fairly well,” Gueymard reported.
ä See CURIOUS, page 2G