NATCHEZ, La., -- Mayor Patsy Ward Hoover weeds as she walks, plucking errant grass from flower beds beside city buildings, in the city park and along her property, just down the road.
"Got 'em," she said, clad in cowboy boots and a gold cross, holding up a bit of crabgrass with a grin.
Ward Hoover had been on her knees, weeding around the flowers beneath a city sign, when a state senator pulled up in 2023 with some news: Her tiny village, which for years had struggled with a mold, rat and asbestos-infested city hall, had won $250,000 for a new building.
It would be small, just 1,400 square feet. It would be temporary. But to Ward Hoover, a longtime activist and local politician, it represented a new era for Natchez, one she'd been fighting for via months of daily calls to lawmakers, to the governor, to anyone who would listen.
"I refused to let it go," said Ward Hoover, 73, as she stood last month beside the fresh building, framed by rose bushes. It was hours before the village was set to host its National Night Out.
Since she started in 2022 as mayor of the lesser-known Natchez, a poor, close-knit community in Natchitoches Parish, Ward Hoover has made beauty a priority. That's meant planting, clearing and erecting signs. But it's also meant pushing the city's 500 residents to clean up their own properties.
And that's where her approach gets controversial, several residents said. Because top among the reasons to live here, in this rural crook of the Cane River, is the ability to keep an old car on your property, an old pig in a pen behind your house.
"When she came to be the mayor, she said she was going to have Natchez looking like a magazine," said Joe Walker Jr., a retired railroad operator. He questions whether that should be the goal. The 1949 Ford truck on his property, where he was born and raised, "isn't bothering nobody," he argued, and he keeps the grass around his vehicles short and neat. Ward Hoover's husband stores "all kinds of stuff behind her house," Walker said, "and he's not moving nothin'."
Walker led an effort in 2023 to remove Ward Hoover from office but failed to get the number of signatures needed. Rather than turn in the signatures, he burned the paper, believing that Ward Hoover would retaliate.
But Ward Hoover and her fans are undeterred. Using words like "determined," "dogged," and "tenacious," they describe a mayor who has accomplished more in her short time than many leaders before her.
"She just has a heart for Natchez," said Louie Bernard, the former state senator who stopped by that day in 2023 and who worked with Ward Hoover when she served on the Natchitoches police jury, now called the parish council. "And golly, if anybody needed to bring Natchez forward, she's the one to do it."
Natchez, which sits 7 miles south of the bigger, more picturesque Natchitoches, isn't hoping these efforts land it a new manufacturing plant. Ward Hoover isn't gunning for the next Trader Joe's. Her needs are more basic: A safe, functioning city hall. A sewer system that sustains itself. A working restroom for Pecan Park.
"It gives the community a sense of pride," Ward Hoover said, running her nails along a new, brick city sign, one she convinced a local monument company to donate. "And it teaches their children right to have pride in what they do.
"My whole fight is for another generation."
Ward Hoover's office is covered with photos of her, in smart suits and high heels, smiling beside political figures.
They include lawmakers and mayors, former Gov. John Bel Edwards, a Democrat, and current Gov. Jeff Landry, a Republican. In her younger days, Ward Hoover fought for African American rights in Natchitoches Parish, where she protested the "Uncle Jack" statue of an elderly Black man tipping his hat. She was once a Democrat; then a Republican.
Now she considers herself an Independent: "I don't do parties. I don't do color. I do people."
But she doesn't linger on the photos of politicians; instead drawing visitors' attention to another set of framed photographs -- of her three daughters and six grandchildren many of them clad in caps and gowns clutching diplomas. Just this month her youngest daughter Renita Ward Williams who earned a law degree was named vice chancellor at Baton Rouge Community College.
Ward Hoover ticked off their accomplishments and the accomplishments of her grandkids who are themselves earning degrees.
But she admits to a stubborn streak that extends even to them. Once her daughter refused to give her legal advice instead passing along resources meant for city leaders. “I stayed mad at her for two weeks,” Ward Hoover said.
She introduces one city council member as “my favorite” and points out another’s beleaguered property.
Alderwoman Monique Sarpy said that it can be “a challenge” to work with Ward Hoover. The fight over junk highlights one reason why, she said. “Folks don’t mind doing what needs to be done, but it’s the way you address it and ask it to be done.”
Since Sarpy grew up in the village its population has grown she said though Census figures show stagnation. The main thing city leaders need do is “give residents better quality life.”
That fight has its obstacles. Audits filed with Louisiana Legislative Auditor have warned that “the village’s deteriorating financial condition could potentially discourage community investment future economic development or similar activities.” In response city leaders touted their plan increase sewer rates.
This year, for the first time in decades, they did.
Improving residents' lot is complicated for historical reasons too said Rolanda Teal an anthropologist who hired Ward Hoover decades ago to help interview decedents of slavery who settled in the area once home to several large plantations. The first time Teal walked through Natchez witnessing dilapidated homes and broken windows she cried. This area is still feeling the effects of slavery Teal said. Instilling a sense of pride in such a place can be difficult she continued.
"When you have such a negative thought process around your ancestors, it's hard to find the glory in it."
Ward Hoover, though, is determined enough to push against all that, Teal said. "She gets something in her head and wants to see it done," she said. "That is to be admired.
"Pat doesn't give up."
'Nothing without prayer'
In the hours leading up to the National Night Out gathering in Pecan Park, Ward Hoover was on one of two cellphones, reminding the city clerk to bring the gift bags, someone to grab the cupcakes, everyone to arrive early. In her home office, she heard the back door open.
You got my wieners? she called. Bring them on in!
This home is where, for months, she conducted official business, taking meetings on the back deck and accepting sewer payments in the mailbox. At the old, infested city hall, one city staffer after another complained of asthma and coughing, hoarseness and headaches. Finally, Ward Hoover, too, went to the doctor, who noted her swollen throat and told her: You need to get out of there.
So she started making calls.
An elegant sign stands at her property's entrance: Hoover's Gated Horse Farm. At the end of the long, fenced driveway are goats, horses,chickens and a few heaps of old equipment. "This is my husband's favorite pile," she said, shaking her head. "When I became mayor, I said,'Everybody has to clean up.' So it was good. You know why it was good?"
She laughed. "Because my husband had to clean."
The acreage was freshly mowed; however,between neat shrubs Ward Hoover called by the names of those who had given them to her.
When she dies,the mayor said,she plans to open up this property;offering her antiques and more to neighbors who might need them.Ward Hoover once ran a Christian bookstore and gallery considers her true mission to be ministry.She erected a trio of short white crosses on city property begins meetings with prayer.
"You do nothing without prayer," she said,"not in the village of Natchez."
At 5 p.m., Ward Hoover drove back to the park pavilion, where her team had filled tables with tacos and cupcakes, free backpacks and school supplies.
Ward Hoover circled, broadcasting on Facebook live, encouraging residents to come by. "Good evening, Facebook friends..." she said, panning the park's benches, balloons and playground. As the light faded, kids overtook the jungle gym, yelping and laughing.
For a moment, between calls and hugs,Ward Hoover watched them as they climbed.