New Orleans, an American story

By LAURIE STUART

Arriving in the French Quarter at 3:15 p.m., having had nothing to eat besides a bagel on the way to Newark Airport and two bags of peanuts on the plane, I was happy to take the young bartender’s suggestion that the Palace Café’s signature appetizer of crab cheesecake would tide me over until dinner.

With the dining room closed, I made myself comfortable at the bar and asked the 20-something bartender about his hometown.

“I don’t think of New Orleans like a southern city,” he said. “I think of it as the most northern Caribbean island.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

He told me it was because of its laid-back attitude, its appreciation for music and culture and its singular pride in its cuisine. He said he liked its diversity, and the fact that he could serve drinks to go. He aspired to own his own club or to be a major-league umpire someday.

The crab cheesecake, with a pecan crust, a creamy non-sweet body and three decorative crab claws adorning the top, was drizzled with a tangy brown sauce, reminiscent of Worcestershire. It was just the ticket for this weary traveler.

After the cooling and filling relief, I was once again out in the moisture-laden air, which never ceased to remind me of a sauna. Full-time residents said that the temperature and the humidity were nothing compared to August and September, and I wondered why most people I met had lived in this Gulf of Mexico city for generations.

That fact alone accounts for much of the human tragedy surrounding Hurricane Katrina’s direct hit last August 29. One thousand and seventy three people lost their lives, mostly poor elderly, who had lived through numerous storms throughout the decades and refused to leave their homes. Many crawled into their attic and died of heat prostration.

“Always keep an axe in your attic to break through the roof in rising waters,” Times Picayune Managing Editor Dan Shea told the 30-member delegation of the New York Press Association (NYPA), who traveled to New Orleans for their June 16 board meeting to bring the Katrina recovery story back to New York weeklies.

In leaving the French Quarter, which is intact because it is the oldest part of the city and was built on high ground, we experienced a contrast of things that worked, mingled with total and utter destruction.

Take the Canal Street trolleys for one. While the infrastructure faired better than the St. Charles line, which was totally destroyed, the building where the trolley cars were stored was under six feet of water for days and all of the trolleys were ruined.

While quaint, and the city’s hallmark public transportation, that wasn’t the heartbreak of the experience. The pain stood in the face of the 200,000 homes that stand empty, block after block for over 35 miles. Eighteen thousand businesses are gone; there are few schools, and thus no children; and 750,000 people were displaced some 10 months ago. Even businesses that remain have trouble filling their employment needs, having to compete with $6,000 sign-on bonuses offered by Burger King. A sign outside of McDonalds announces positions starting at $9.75. Other businesses, like the Chase Bank, sport a “We’re Open” banner in front of their empty storefronts, which is confusing until you spy the small trailer in the back, complete with handicapped ramp.

For-sale signs litter the destroyed houses. Emergency rescue markings ľan X with the date, the kind of search, interior or exterior, who conducted the search and the number of bodies found, or notes about petsľare emblazoned on every structure. Most are high above the door, which is tangible evidence of the water’s depth at the height of the emergency.

Small white FEMA trailers parked in front of useless houses and moldy belongings piled on the sidewalk are indications of hope, return and rebuilding.

According to Sean Reilly, board member of the Louisiana Recovery Authority and guest speaker at the joint lunch of the NYPA and the Louisiana Press Association, the newly released second supplemental payment of $2.5 billion will provide enough money for Louisiana to rebuild within five to ten years.

In contrast to that heartening news, we learned that some public housing projects, many of which were not damaged, would be demolished. There is no plan to rebuild the poorer, and lower-lying, neighborhoods. And, thus far, there will be no unified effort made to encourage green building or alternative energy solutions.

“The house we have in mind is energy efficient,” Reilly assured me when I asked.

As our area, and other parts of the country, face the prospect of National Interest Electricity Transmission Corridors to all its congested electricity areas, it was disheartening that our nation’s domestic spending would go into uninspired and less-than-optimum solutions. New Orleans, with its store doors open, pouring air-conditioned air onto the street to invite shoppers to refresh themselves and purchase goods, must certainly be on the list of heavy energy users.

And that is one of the stories of the Gulf State recovery. While Louisiana had to prove that it would be transparent in its use of federal funds, Reilly quipped that “the amount of money being wasted by FEMA could never equal the amount of money that we could possibly steal.”

But while the government agencies are less than inspiring, individuals seem determined to rebuild New Orleans to its former glory and vitality, albeit one of the poorest cities in the country. There is an air of pluckiness among its residents.

From the individual shop owner who is gushing with gratitude for New Yorkers buying pralines, to the hotel employee who is concerned that you have had a good stay and will return again, the New Orleans tourist industry is thankful for the shot in the arm from anyone who is willing to journey there.

And the traveler who is willing to visit New Orleans is treated to great seafood—the best for a while as hurricanes release all sorts of nutrients from the marshes—impromptu jazz, both on the streets and in clubs, and a tangible air of survival that is an invitation to be a part of the recovery.