New Orleans isn't like other American cities. Honestly, if you've spent more than twenty minutes walking down Magazine Street or catching the scent of roasting coffee near the river, you know that. Most places prioritize the new, the shiny, and the venture-capital-backed. Not here. In the Crescent City, the New Orleans family business isn't just a category of the local economy; it is the economy.
It's about survival. It's about blood.
When you walk into a place like Hansen’s Sno-Bliz on Tchoupitoulas, you aren't just buying shaved ice. You’re participating in a lineage that started in 1939. Ernest and Mary Hansen didn't just build a shop; they built a prototype for how a family survives a century of hurricanes, economic shifts, and changing tastes. Most people think these businesses stay alive because of nostalgia. That’s a mistake. They stay alive because they own their niches with a ferocity that a corporate franchise can’t replicate.
The multi-generational grit of the New Orleans family business
Why does a New Orleans family business last for four or five generations while the national average for family-owned firms rarely makes it past the second? It’s the "stickiness" of the culture.
Take the Casamento family. Since 1919, Casamento’s Restaurant has been a staple. They close for the summer. Think about that for a second. In an era of 24/7 grind culture and UberEats, a family business says, "No, we are going to close because the oysters aren't in season and we need a break." That level of autonomy is rare. It’s a middle finger to the standard growth-at-all-costs business model.
But it’s not all po-boys and tiles.
Look at Laitram. Most locals know the name, but many don't realize it’s a global powerhouse in shrimp-peeling machinery and conveyor belt technology. It started with J.M. Lapeyre in the 1940s. He was a kid who didn't want to peel shrimp by hand anymore. Now, it’s a massive operation run by the same family, proving that a New Orleans family business can be high-tech and industrial while maintaining that private, family-held core. They didn't sell out to a private equity firm in Chicago. They stayed.
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Passing the torch without burning the house down
Succession is where most businesses die. It’s messy. Resentment builds.
In New Orleans, the transition often happens through a sort of forced apprenticeship. You’ll see the "heir" to a major local furniture empire or a funeral home sweeping floors or working the loading docks in their teens. There’s no skipping steps. Adler’s Jewelry is a prime example. Since 1898, the Adler family has managed to keep the sparkle on Canal Street. They’ve navigated the rise of e-commerce by doubling down on the one thing a website can’t give you: a relationship with a person whose grandfather sold a ring to your grandfather.
The weight of the name on the door
There is a psychological burden to running a New Orleans family business. When your last name is on the sign, you can't exactly hide when things go wrong.
During the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, and more recently, the COVID-19 lockdowns, these families bore the brunt of the trauma. Leah Chase and the Dooky Chase family didn't just cook fried chicken; they provided a literal meeting ground for Civil Rights leaders. When the water rose, the question wasn't "Is this profitable to reopen?" It was "How do we get back so the neighborhood has a place to eat?"
That’s a different balance sheet.
- Financials: Usually conservative, low debt.
- Real Estate: They often own the building, which is the ultimate shield against gentrification.
- Labor: Employees often stay for 20, 30, or 40 years. They become "work family" in a way that sounds like a cliché elsewhere but is a reality here.
Not everyone makes it
Let's be real. It’s not all success stories. We’ve seen iconic names vanish. K&B (Katz & Besthoff) was the quintessential New Orleans pharmacy. That purple branding was everywhere. When it was sold to Rite Aid in 1997, a piece of the city’s soul basically evaporated. Locals still talk about it like a death in the family.
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The lesson? The biggest threat to a New Orleans family business isn't usually a lack of customers. It’s the temptation of the "exit." When the younger generation wants to move to New York or Los Angeles and doesn't want to run a hardware store or a bakery, the lineage snaps.
The economics of staying small (on purpose)
There’s this weird pressure in American business to always be "scaling." If you have one successful restaurant, you need five. If you have five, you need a national franchise.
New Orleans families often reject this.
Angelo Brocato’s in Mid-City has been doing Italian seeds, gelato, and cannoli since 1905. They could have put a Brocato’s in every mall in the South. They didn't. By staying focused on one location, they maintained the quality and the "destination" status. This "intentional smallness" is a sophisticated business strategy that protects the brand's premium value. It’s why people will drive 45 minutes and wait in line for a box of cookies they could technically get a version of at a grocery store.
The pivot: How the old guard survives the new age
You can't just do things "the way Grandpa did" and expect to survive 2026. The families that thrive are the ones that adapt the method but keep the mission.
Meyer the Hatter has been around since 1894. You might think a hat store is a relic. But they’ve embraced the internet. They ship Stetson and Borsalino hats all over the world. They’ve turned a local storefront into a global authority. They survived the era when men stopped wearing hats daily by becoming the place where "hat people" go.
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Tactical insights for the modern family firm
If you are looking at the New Orleans family business model as a blueprint for your own venture, there are a few non-negotiable takeaways that these centuries-old institutions teach us:
- Own the dirt. If you can, buy the real estate. Property taxes in New Orleans are a headache, but being your own landlord is the only way to survive when a neighborhood suddenly becomes "hot" and rents quadruple.
- Diversify within the family. One sibling runs the floor, one handles the books, one manages the digital presence. The most successful New Orleans families don't have three people doing the same job; they have a "divide and conquer" mentality.
- The 100-Year View. Stop looking at quarterly returns. Most of these families think in decades. If a year is bad because of a hurricane or a recession, they look at the reserves.
- Community as Insurance. When things get tough, the community supports the businesses that supported them. This isn't "charity." It’s a reciprocal economic circle.
How to support and sustain the legacy
Supporting a New Orleans family business is more than just a "shop local" slogan. It’s a vote for the city’s continued existence as a unique cultural entity rather than a sanitized version of everywhere else.
If you're a consumer, the best thing you can do is show up during the "slow" months. August in New Orleans is brutal, and that’s when these businesses feel the pinch. If you're an entrepreneur, look at these models not as "old-fashioned" but as "resilient." They have survived every major American crisis of the last century.
Next Steps for the Interested Reader:
- Visit the Classics: Make a point to visit a legacy business like Central Grocery or Antoine’s and observe how they manage the flow of people and the weight of their history.
- Audit Your Own "Exit" Strategy: If you run a business, ask yourself if you're building it to sell or building it to last. The strategies for each are fundamentally different.
- Engage with the Archive: Look into the Historic New Orleans Collection. They have extensive records on local commerce that show the literal maps of how these businesses shaped the footprint of the city.
The New Orleans family business is a stubborn thing. It’s built on limestone, cypress, and a refusal to do things the "easy" way. That’s exactly why it works.