Two Drives and More Than Two Sides of the Story

We took a detour through some of the devastation on the way to work this morning. So far our normal route to work and random jaunts around the city had not exposed us to damage this great or this widespread. You have seen it on TV, but until you are there you cannot get the true sense of how thoroughly decimated and strangely unpopulated some of these areas happen to be. There is a scummy waterline that bonds all of the shells of houses, which allowed me to try and visualize what dire straights it must have been to be trapped in those man-made islands for a week. I know that some of those houses were delapadated beforehand, so I tried to picture what damage Katrina had done herself. The spooky parts are the spray painted markings that indicate what rescue workers found when they systematically searched the houses. We tried to decipher them; gleaning that red was the color the SPCA used when looking for pets, and that over the 'X' was the date searched. But other than observations like these, and the occassional "look at that," the car was rather silent as we trolled the rubble - dodging the occassional utility worker, gas line, and sink hole. But it was the conclusion that much of that part of the city would have to be rebuilt from the beginning that reenergized my focus on our work. The truth is that if you are not focused, the work of locating attorneys and clients could get monotonous. However after our morning drive, I realized that just as those neighborhoods had to start over from sqaure 1 so did the Pro Bono Project.

Ellen ordered us off the job early today to experience some of the city in the light, so we drove down Magazine St. into the Garden District. Just like the folks down Canal St. had been poor before Katrina, the area we were in had been well off before the storm and continued to be so afterward. These beautiful plantation homes had some damage, but unlike the morning's drive this one was teeming with life. This area was being repaired by residents and workers alike. Much has been made about the correlation between income and injury with Katrina, but whether that is true i do not know. Could it be that if you were rich you lived on higher ground and were therefore less likely to flood, maybe, but it also could have been the fickled happenstance of mother nature. There was disparity before Katrina, and there certainly is after - but many will just say that is just New Orleans. But personally the stark contrast between our morning and evening drives still gives me a feeling more than sorrow, which does not sit quite right.

Before the trip I heard a relief worker on NPR talking about how she was leaving New Orleans a month early because she felt like some of the neighborhoods were not being touched, and that she thought she was underutilized and underappreciated. From my experience there is some truth in the first half of that statement, but the second a complete falsity.

We have been to a local hole in the wall for lunch the last two days, Mena's Palace. It is a great place much like Sutton's in Chapel Hill or Cooper's Barbeque in Raleigh. I have had a shrimp po-boy and a breaded veal cutlet po-boy, but you really could close your eyes and point to the menu and be sure you would get something good. The place is filled with worn relief workers, hurried professionals, and haggard but friendly waitresses. Today our's immediately said "ya'll aren't from around here are ya?" But then she proceeded to tell us about how where she lived across the river was getting back to normal, but that the city of New Orleans has been much slower to get things cleaned up. It was a very real account from a very real person.

On that same token everyone has a point of view on the hurricane. As we look for physical damage we fast forget that this disaster affected many more people than it did buildings. A city of 800,000 now has 50,000 - and 19 of those are law students who are going home on friday. But more than anything i saw on either drive the effects of the storm are seen in the faces, in the stories and in the actions of the people of New Orleans.

Rachel and Ellen up front told us that you could see that the storm had frazzelled them. As we call attorneys you get a range of people from ticked off to happy to help to holding on by a string. Ellen brought us together and gave us gutwrenching stories in order to dispell some of the myths about the Superdome, the levees, and Katrina. At the Hoffmans' house later saw a slideshow of pictures from a Carolina Alum who weathered the storm inside the city. No matter who you talk to about the storm, the opinions about the causes and happenings change. But the common thread that binds these people to the land they love so much, is that no matter who you talk to the watermarks are showing and the need for them to somehow start over from sqaure 1 shows. Which is why I am so happy that the hardworking ladies of the New Orleans Pro Bono Project are taking a deserved break next week.

But my second issue with the lady from NPR concerns the amount to which the city is actually alive and thankful for any and all who are around. Mother's is open. Burbon Street is open. Pat O'Brien's is open, though with few people and only one bar - which I am told is weird. Handgrenades and muffaletta sandwiches are being consumed, and the people of this area are greatful. They are too greatful; wonderful people like the Goodsons and the Hoffmans and the all the attorneys thank us mightily at every turn, when really we should be thanking them for their generosity. It is hard to feel like you make a dent a problem so big, but the attorneys, the clients, the families, EVERYONE is happy that we are here and we are willing to help. And even more importantly they are hopeful that we will take their stories beyond the bounds of the Bayou.

You can't go home again

For me, the most striking thing about seeing this city for the first time and seeing it in this condition is not just the shock of the destruction, but knowing that to so many people, this city is home. The work that we have been doing at the Pro Bono Project has focused on finding people that have been out of touch since the storm, and it has shown us that the real destructive power of Hurricane Katrina was in sending people away from New Orleans to places that aren’t their home.

I don’t think that anything could gut your soul like watching the place where you have your roots wash away as you have to turn your back on it and flee for your life. It isn’t just the flooded, wind-beaten houses, but the fact that communities built by the daily interactions of the people and the city over two hundred years are simply gone.

I was listening to a story on the radio about the hurricane awhile back and heard a displaced New Orleans woman recounting her old neighborhood – the characters who haunted their respective corners and the mailman who called her “baby.” During the past couple of days, I’ve found myself projecting that woman’s story onto the empty, devastated streets and imagining the unique group of people that was forced out of New Orleans and dispersed all over the Southeast. The displaced woman that I heard has no way of knowing where the neighborhood characters have gone and no expectation of seeing that mailman again. She and all the others lost their houses but even more sadly, their neighborhoods and their roots. Their city.

Even I can tell you after three days here on my first visit that there is no place like New Orleans. And it is still here, but so deep in mourning that it is hard to imagine a full recovery. Before I arrived, I heard people say that the French Quarter was not badly damaged. And it’s true that the buildings are still there. In fact, we had a wonderful night in the Quarter complete with amazing food, good wine, music and dancing. All of that is still possible. But the Quarter is damaged just like the rest of the city – the streets and bars are relatively empty (many are closed) and the people are tired and sad. But not all are completely defeated – the saxophone player in a bar we wandered into stopped the music to tell us wearily that we should come back when the city was back on its feet, in ten years. We promised that we would, and he promised that he’d still be there playing music, this time to a room full of happy people.

New Orleans... The Beginning

We arrived late last night before the rest of the group. After we found the house we sat in front of the house working up enough courage to go up and knock on a stranger's door. After we finally did, we were greeted by our hosts and were immediatley welcomed. We settled in and hit the bed pretty early.

We got to the Pro Bono Project office this morning around 9. After we were treated to Cafe au Lait and french doughnuts we got down to business. At times it was frustrating work and sometimes seemed monotanous (at one time in the day I was counting files in a large cabinent). However, it feels good to get out of Chapel Hill after a long semester and actually see how the law works and affects people. ~ wtb

Ghost city

Driving into New Orleans last night, I had the eerie feeling that we were entering a ghost town. I-10 east of New Orleans is bordered by some of the areas hardest hit by the hurricane, and we drove for several miles of interstate in almost total darkness-- none of the street lights were lit, and all the buildings lining either side of the highway were black, no sign of life anywhere. There were uprooted trees here and there on the side of the highway, but other than that, the darkness concealed most of what I imagined was great devastation beyond. The only sign of any kind of activity were large car dealerships rising out of the pitch black, with glaring flourescent lights and screenprinted signs screaming "YES, WE'RE OPEN!" hung makeshift across the former lighted signs damaged by the storm. We finally came to an area where the streetlights were lit and saw large buildings with walls and roofs ripped off, whole apartment complexes with collapsed or collapsing buildings. Neighborhoods lining the interstate were darkened, no cars anywhere, blue tarps covering a roof here and there.

We crested a hill and a few miles ahead, we could see the lights of downtown, no doubt a shell of its former self, and yet, to me, a sign that there was a future for this great city. As we headed to Metairie, our home for the week, we could tell we were heading into areas where the storm had wreaked less havoc. Christmas lights hung here and there in the neighborhoods. I'm a big sucker for Christmas and all its trimmings, so these were another important sign of hope for me.

Our hosts, the Goodsons, are the family of a 3L student at UNC. Their home in Metairie was flooded with foot and a half of water. They were so kind to let us invade their family space, especially since they are in the midst of rebuilding it. Their whole kitchen has been ripped out, ready to be remade and their walls are bare drywall. And yet their walls were still lined with jovial family photos, a sign that this house is their home, and they have no intention of leaving. Their neighborhood streets are lined with travel trailers, as folks live outside their homes while they rebuild the insides. I was struck by the incredible level of disruption these folks suffered with only a foot to a foot and a half of water in their homes, and for the most part, the means to repair them. My heart ached for them, and I was humbled by their determination to rebuild, to be defiant in the face of an unknown and unknowable future.

But I was even more struck by what and who I had yet to see. What of those whose homes were flooded to their roofs, those who have no money to repair or rebuild anything, those whose family photos are lost forever, those may never return? It is for these people we are here, and I am so grateful to UNC, to my classmates and to the Goodsons for making this trip possible.

Somewhere in Alabama...

I am writing my pre-post at 70 mph on Interstate 65. I can think of nowhere else better to share my expectations for this trip than barrelling down the road with New Orleans only 4 or 5 hours away. I have never been to New Orleans, so my outlook for the coming week is driven by complete uncertainty.

I am uncertain what New Orleans has in store for us. What state is the physical recovery effort? Do stoplights work? Is there an ATM? Will my cell phone work? Also will this be a complete disaster area? I went through hurricanes Floyd and Fran, but in those cases the destruction was small enough that you could drive to someplace normal. The Katrina devastation seems much bigger than that.

Then I wonder about what I am going to face in the New Orleans Pro Bono Project. What will be the state of the people we both work with and work for? Will they be physically and mentally haggard? What do I do if someone breaks down, gets mad, or asks for my advice when I cannot give it to them?

This will be my first chance to deal with real clients after a semester of law school, so I have all the apprehension that comes along with that. I assume that you always are wary of screwing up, but in this case - where it might affect a person’s ability to get back on their feet – I am doubly conscious of the need to do the best job possible in the next week.

But most of all, I worry about actually achieving something worthwhile in a week’s time. With a problem as large as this the common reaction is to be flustered about where to start. The thing is on Friday I will be home, on Friday I will be in the Christmas spirit, but New Orleans will still be there. So for this week I think I owe it to New Orleans be completely in the mind of doing everything I can to help in any way possible. I really hope we can help.

Pictures

Day One: We are helping the Pro Bono Project track down attorneys and clients who may have been displaced by the hurricane. In particular, we are hoping to find out the status of estate succession cases, for these clients are the ones most likely to be immediately affected by the storm. If a person has inherited property, then she can't get FEMA assistance to help repair or rebuild the property until there has been a judgment or an executor appointed. We worked on dozens of open succession cases today, calling attorneys and clients, in many cases getting disconnected phone numbers, and googling anyone we couldn't find by phone. It's startling the number of clients who may be unable to get FEMA assistance because their succession cases haven't been closed yet.

Hurricanes

So from Andrew to Ivan to Frances to Charlie when we thought Katrina was going to hit home we thought it was going to be just another storm - in Florida you just kind of get used to them - then when Katrina hit New Orleans I realized that just b/c of it's location - of how the town was situated -things would be different. And what I realized after that was that - unlike most other places - how much money you made determined how far above sea level you and if you would have a house to come home to.

Last time I was in NO was for New Year's last year - and the whole aura here is different, but the residents seem to really have their heart behind the reconstruction of this city [both literally & metaphorically].

We haven't seen any of the destruction yet so it hasn't hit me by any means - I think we'll all leave here feeling extrememly blessed [I'll take pictures]