keeping New Orleans alive, and honoring the dead their way

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A ‘Gay Parade’ gets under way in the French Quarter of New Orleans. as a determined handful of hurricane survivors vowed to keep the spirit of New Orleans alive. The official parade was postponed because of the arrival of Hurricane Katrina six days ago.

New Orleans has a better chance of surviving if New Orleaneans are there to keep it going. Nobody should even think of leaving it all up to FEMA. Agence France Presse shows us today a little bit of how it’s going to happen.

NEW ORLEANS, United States (AFP) – Music, Mardi Gras beads, costumes and confetti returned to the French Quarter as a determined handful of hurricane survivors vowed to keep the spirit of New Orleans alive.
Decked out in a red polka-dot tutu and purple parasol, Candice Jamieson, marched through the city’s eerie abandoned streets, rattling a tambourine.
“We’re having a decadence parade,” said the 21-year-old student, referring to the annual gay pride march, usually a massive and raucous affair that rivals the city’s famed Mardi Gras festivities.
“We’re trying to bring up everyone’s morale,” Jamieson said moments before reaching out to catch beads tossed by the only populated balcony in Royal street.
“It’s usually a lot bigger,” Georgia Walker, 53, called down as she tossed more beads.
. . . .
Asked whether he thought some people might consider the parade in poor taste given that hundreds of survivors remained stranded and that rescue workers were harvesting the bodies of storm victims from streets and flooded homes, [Michael Skidmore] said the city was in desperate need of a little joy amid the carnage.
“We’re going to make life better, even if they laugh at us, we want them to laugh,” he said as his grass skirt flapped in the breeze.
Dancing in the streets is a traditional way of honoring the dead in the region, explained Diana Stray Dog as she held a pole flying a huge American flag against her shoulder.
“In New Orleans we celebrate death. When people die we go in the streets and sing,” she said, adding that she was marching to return some life to the battered city.
“Amid all the tears and all the sorrow we have a big heart and it’s not going to die.”

One of a number of places sheltering the life which continues in the city, in defiance of the authorities’ orders to leave, is Molly’s at the Market, described in better times by one fan as “Our favorite watering hole in the quarter, full of dropouts, queers, freaks, and phds. Oh yeah, and a fabulous juke box.”

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A patron spends the afternoon at Molly’s at the Market, one of at least two bars in New Orleans’ French Quarter that has remained open after Hurricane Katrina despite a lack of electricity and running water on September 4, 2005. Many residents of New Orleans who live in the few areas on high ground that escaped flood waters say they will defy official requests for them to abandon their homes.

UPDATE: For more on the “tribes” of the French Quarter, see this AP story, the stuff of tomorrow’s legends.

[top image by Robert Sullivan from AFP, second image by Shannon Stapleton from Reuters, both via Yahoo!]

preserving the people of New Orleans as a community

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Lee Friedlander Sweet Emma Barrett, New Orleans 1958

A BROKEN NEW ORLEANS ROUSES ITSELF

I have no way of knowing how central this particular appeal may become, but it came to me through a friend and I share its anger and its emphasis on preserving a devasatated community intact. The call comes from some really good people, and I believe it should be broadcast widely. I decided not to wait for the promised formal press release.

Displaced New Orleans Community Demands Action,
Accountability and Initiates A People’s
Hurricane Fund

Not until the fifth day of the federal government’s
inept and inadequate emergency response to the
New Orleans’ disaster did George Bush even acknowledge
it was ‘unacceptable.’ ‘Unacceptable’ doesn’t begin to
describe the depth of the neglect, racism and classism
shown to the people of New Orleans. The government’s
actions and inactions were criminal. New Orleans, a
city whose population is almost 70% percent black, 40%
illiterate, and many are poor, was left day after day
to drown, to starve and to die of disease and thirst.
The people of New Orleans will not go quietly into the
night, scattering across this country to become
homeless in countless other cities while federal
relief funds are funneled into rebuilding casinos,
hotels, chemical plants and the wealthy white
districts of New Orleans like the French Quarter and
the Garden District. We will not stand idly by while
this disaster is used as an opportunity to replace our
homes with newly built mansions and condos in a
gentrified New Orleans.
Community Labor United (CLU), a coalition of the
progressive organizations throughout New Orleans, has
brought community members together for eight years to
discuss socio-economic issues. We have been
communicating with people from The Quality Education
as a Civil Right Campaign, the Algebra Project, the
Young People’s Project and the Louisiana Research
Institute for Community Empowerment. We are
preparing a press release and framing document that
will be out as a draft later today for comments.
Here is what we are calling for:

We are calling for all New Orleanians remaining in the
city to be evacuated immediately.
We are calling for information about where every
evacuee was taken.
We are calling for black and
progressive leadership to come together to meet in
Baton Rouge to initiate the formation of a
Community Oversight Committee of evacuees from all the
sites. This committee will demand to
oversee FEMA, the Red Cross and other organizations
collecting resources on behalf of our people.
We are calling for volunteers to enter the shelters
where our people are and to assist parents with
housing, food, water, health care and access to aid.
We are calling for teachers and educators to carve out
some time to come to evacuation sites and teach our
children.
We are calling for city schools and universities near
evacuation sites to open their doors for our
children to go to school.
We are calling for health care workers and mental
health workers to come to evacuation sites to
volunteer.
We are calling for lawyers to investigate the wrongful
death of those who died, to protect the land of
the displaced, to investigate whether the levies broke
due to natural and other related matters.
We are calling for evacuees from our community to
actively participate in the rebuilding of New
Orleans.
We are calling for the addresses of all the relevant
list serves and press contacts to send our
information.

We are in the process of setting up a central command
post in Jackson, MS, where we will have
phone lines, fax, email and a web page to centralize
information. We will need volunteers to staff this
office.
We have set up a People’s Hurricane Fund that will be
directed and administered by New Orleanian evacuees.
The Young People’s Project, a 501(c)3 organization
formed by graduates of the Algebra Project, has agreed
to accept donations on behalf of this fund. Donations
can be mailed to:

The People’s Hurricane Fund
c/o The Young People’s Project
99 Bishop Allen Drive
Cambridge, MA 02139

If you have comments of how to proceed or need more
information, please email them to Curtis
Muhammad (muhammadcurtis@bellsouth.net) and Becky
Belcore (bbelcore@hotmail.com).
Thank you

.

[image from Masters of Photography]

more from inside New Orleans, from Jordan Flaherty

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Troy Tallent brings some blues back to the French Quarter, by playing for the few residents and police still in the neighborhood. Originally from Georgia, Troy came to New Orleans in 1987 and he hasn’t left yet. [Los Angeles Times caption dated September 3]
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HELP AT HAND: Nita LaGarde, 105, leaves New Orleans’ convention center with her nurse’s granddaughter Tanisha Blevin, 5. Before coming to the shelter, they huddled in an attic and on an interstate island. Helicopters evacuated the elderly, infirm and infants. About 1,000 people remain. [Los Angeles Times dated September 4]

I’m publishing a second letter from Jordan Flaherty this morning, once again copied in its entirety. The first section includes his thoughts on the the city, the second is in the form of a diary and the third is the beginnings of a prospectus for aiding the people of New Orleans.

DON’T LET NEW ORLEANS DIE
by Jordan Flaherty
August 27 – September 3, 2005
Its been a day since I evacuated from New Orleans, my
home, the city I love. Today I saw Governor
Blanco proudly speak of troops coming in with orders
to shoot to kill. Is she trying to help New
Orleans, or has she declared war?
I feel like the world isn’t seeing the truth about the
city I love. People outside know about Jazz Fest
and Bourbon Street and beads, and now they know about
looters and armed gangs and helicopter
rescue.
What’s missing is the story of a city and people who
have created a culture of liberation and
resistance. A city where people have stood up against
centuries of racism and white supremacy.
This is the city where in 1892 Homer Plessy and the
Citizens Committee planned the direct action
that brought the first (unsuccessful) legal challenge
to the doctrine of “Separate but Equal.” This is
the city where in 1970 the New Orleans Black Panthers
held off the police from the desire housing
projects, and also formed one of the nations’ first
Black Panther chapters in prison. Where in 2005
teens at Frederick Douglas High School, one of the
most impoverished schools in the US, formed a
student activist group called Teens With Attitude to
fight for educational justice, and canvassed their
community to develop true community ownership of their
school.
I didn’t really understand community until I moved to
New Orleans. Secondlines, the new orleans
tradition of roving street parties with a brass band,
began as a form of community insurance, and are
still used to benefit those needing aid. New Orleans
is a place where someone always wants to feed
you.
Instead of demonizing this community, instead of
mistreating them and shooting them and stranding
them in refugee camps and displacing them across the
southern US, we need to give our love and
support to this community in their hour of crisis, and
then we need to let them lead the redevelopment
of New Orleans. As Naomi Klein has already pointed
out, the rebuilding money that will come in
doesn’t belong to the Red Cross or FEMA or Homeland
Security, the money belongs to the people of
New Orleans.

HURRICANE DIARY
Many people have asked for more information about my
experience in the past week. I was one of
the fortunate ones. I had food and water and a solid
home. Below are notes from my week in the
disaster that was constructed out of greed, corruption
and neglect.
Saturday, August 27
I’m in New Orleans, and there’s word of a hurricane
approaching. I don’t consider leaving. Why?
Because I don’t have a car, and all the airlines and
car rental companies are sold out. Because the
last two hurricanes were false alarms, despite the
shrill and vacuous media alarms. Because I have
a sturdy, second floor apartment, food, water,
flashlights, and supplies. Because there is not much
of an evacuation plan. Friends of mine who evacuated
last time sat in their cars, moving 50 miles in 12
hours.
Sunday, August 28
As the storm approaches and grows larger, everyone I
know is calling. “Are you staying or going?
where are you staying? Are you bringing your pets?
What should I do?” Governor Blanco urges us
to “pray the hurricane down” to a level 2.
I relent to pressure somewhat and relocate to a more
sturdy location, an apartment complex built out
of an old can factory in the midcity neighborhood.
The building is five stories high, built of concrete
and brick. There are seven of us in the apartment,
with four cats.
Monday, August 29
Its morning, the storm is over, and we survey the
streets outside. There has been some flooding. A
few of us explore the neighborhood in boats, and we
see extensive damage, but overall we feel as if
New Orleans has once again escaped fate.
Later in the day, we hear some reports of much greater
flooding in destruction in the ninth ward and
lower ninth ward neighborhoods, New Orleans’ most
overexploited communities.
Tomorrow, we decide, the water will lower and we’ll
walk home. We expect power will start coming
on in a week or so.
There are many relaxed and friendly conversations,
especially on the roof. With all of the lights in the
city out, the night sky is beautiful. We lie on our
backs and watch shooting stars.
Tuesday, August 30
We wake up to discover that the water level has risen
several feet. Panic begins to set in among
some. We inventory our food and find that, if we
ration it tightly, we have enough for five days. As
we discuss it, we repeatedly say, “not that we’ll be
here that long, but if we had to…”
We continue to explore the area by boat, helping
people when possible. The atmosphere outside is
a sort of post-apocalyptic, threatening world of
obscure danger, where the streets are empty and the
future seems cloudy. The water is a repellent mix of
sewage, gas, oil, trash and worse.
We meet some of our neighbors. Most of the building
is empty. Of at least 250 apartments, there are
maybe 200 people in the building, about half white and
half Black. Many people, like us, are crowded 7 or 10
to an apartment. Like us, many people came here for
safety from the storm. Some have no food and water.
A few folks break open the building candy machine and
distribute the contents. We talk about breaking into
the cafe attached to the building and distributing the
food.
We turn on a battery-powered tv and radio, and then
turn it off in disgust. No solid information, just
rumor and conjecture and fear. Throughout this time,
there is no reliable source of information,
compounding and multiplying the crisis.
The reporters and politicians talk 80% about looting
and 20% about flooding. I can’t understand how
anyone could blame someone for “looting” when they
just had their home destroyed by the neglect
and corruption of a country that doesn’t care about
them and never did.
Tomorrow, the news announces, the water level will
continue to rise, perhaps 12-15 feet. Governor
Blanco calls for a day of prayer.
Wednesday, August 31
White people in the building start whispering about
their fears of “them.” One woman complains of
people in the building “from the projects and hoarding
food.” There is talk of gangs in the streets,
shooting, robbing, and lawless anarchy. I feel like
there is a struggle in people’s minds between
compassion and panic, between empathy and fear.
However, we witness many folks traveling around in
boats, bringing food or giving lifts or sharing
information.
But the overwhelming atmosphere is one of fear. People
fear they wont be able to leave, they fear
disease, hunger, and crime. There is talk of a
soldier shot in the head by looters, of bodies
floating in the ninth ward, flooding in Charity
Hospital, and huge masses (including police) emptying
WalMart and the electronic stores on Canal street.
There are fires visible in the distance. A
particularly large fire seems to be nearby – we think
its at the projects at Orleans and Claiborne.
Helicopters drop army MREs (Meal Ready to Eat) and
water, and people rush forward to grab as many as
they can.
After the third air drop, people in the building start
organizing a distribution system.
Across the street is a spot of land, and helicopters
begin landing there and loading people aboard.
Hundreds of people from the nearby hospital make their
way there, many wearing only flimsy gowns, waiting in
the sun. As more helicopters come, people start
arriving from every direction, straggling in, swimming
or coming by boat.
A helicopter hovers over our roof, and a soldier comes
down and announces that tomorrow everyone in the
building will be evacuated.
Across the street, at least two hundred people spend
the night huddled on a tiny patch of land, waiting for
evacuation.
Thursday, September 1
People in the building want out. They are lining up
on the roof to be picked up by helicopters – three
copters come early in the morning and take a total of
nine people. Seventy-five people spend the
next several hours waiting on the roof, but no more
come.
Down in the parking garage, flooded with sewage, a
steady stream of boats takes people to various
locations, mostly to a nearby helicopter pickup point.
We hear stories of hundreds of people waiting for
evacuation nearby at Xavier University, a
historically Black college, and at other locations.
Our group fractures, people leaving at various times.
Two of us take a boat to a helicopter to a refugee
camp. If you ever wondered if the US government
would treat US refugees the same way they treat
Haitian refugees or Somali refugees, the answer is,
yes, if those refugees are poor, black, and from the
South.
The individual soldiers and police are friendly and
polite – at least to me – but nobody seems to know
what’s going on. As wave after wave of refugees
arrives, they are ushered behind the barricades
onto mud and dirt and sewage, while heavily armed
soldiers look on.
Many people sit on the side, not even trying to get on
a bus. Children, people in wheelchairs, and everyone
else sit in the sun by the side of the highway.
Everyone has a story to tell, of a home destroyed, of
swimming across town, of bodies and fights and
gunshots and looting and fear. The worst stories come
from the Superdome. I speak to one young man who
describes having to escape and swim up to midcity.
I‘m reminded of a moment I read about in the book
“Rising Tide,” about the Mississippi river flood of
1927. After the 1927 evacuation, a boatload of poor
black refugees is refused permission to get on
land “until they sing negro spirituals.” As a bus
arrives and a mass swarms forward and state police
and national guard do nothing to help, I feel like I’m
witnessing the modern equivalent of this dehumanizing
spectacle.
More refugees are arriving than are leaving. Three of
us walk out of the camp, considering trying to
hitchhike a ride from relief workers or press. We get
a ride from an Australian tv team who drive us to
Baton Rouge where we sit on the street and wait until
a relative arrives and gives us a ride to Houston.
While we sit on the street, everyone we meet is a
refugee from somewhere – Bay St Louis, Gulfport,
Slidell, Covington. Its after midnight, but the roads
are crowded. Everyone is going somewhere.
Friday, September 2
In Houston, I can’t sleep, although we drove through
the night. Governor Blanco announces that
she’s sending in more national guard troops, “These
troops are fresh back from Iraq, well trained,
experienced, battle tested and under my orders to
restore order in the streets. They have M-16s and
they are locked and loaded. These troops know how
to shoot and kill and they are more than willing
to do so if necessary and I expect they will.”

[WHAT TO DO]
Many people have called and written to ask what they
can do. I don’t really have answers. I’m still
tired and angry and I don’t know if my home survived.
But, here’s some thoughts:
1) Hold the politicians accountable. Hold the media
accountable. Defend Kanye West.
2) Support grassroots aid. A friend has compiled a
list at http://www.sparkplugfoundation.org/
katrinarelief.html

3) Volunteer. The following is a call for volunteers
from Families and friends of Louisiana’s
Incarcerated Children, an excellent grassroots group:

Come and help us walk through the shelters,
find people, help folks apply for FEMA assistance,
figure out what needs they have, match folks up
with other members willing to take people in. We
especially need Black folks to help us as the racial
divide between relief workers and evacuees is stark.
Email us ASAP if you would like to help with this
work.
kdhiggs@hotmail.com,
familiescantwait@yahoo.com
deenv_2000@yahoo.com
xochitl@mediajumpstart.org

4) Organize in your own community.
5) Add your apartment to the housing board at
www.hurricanehousing.org.
6) Support grassroots, community control of
redevelopment.
Don’t let New Orleans die.

More on Katrina, from independent sources, can be found on Znet.

[images from the Los Angeles Times, the first by LAT photographer Carolyn Cole, the second by the AP’s Eric Gay]

these people are being treated like vermin

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A body floats outside the Superdome in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. [Los Angeles Times caption dated Friday]


How rich and white do you have to be to get the attention of your government?


These people are being treated like animals, and I’m not thinking of dog and cat animals. I mean rat animals! Where is the outrage? Where is the accountability? When do we start indicting?
This is an excerpt from a Reuters story posted earlier today, on the sixth day of the disaster in New Orleans:

As dusk fell on Friday evening, a woman’s bloated and brutally distorted figure lay prostrate on the corner of Jackson Avenue and Magazine Street in a poor neighborhood.
The black woman lay, arms flaccid, feet splayed, one shoe gone, her face distended from swelling and her chest swollen as gas filled her decaying corpse. Someone had covered her body in a plaid blanket in an anonymous gift offering some dignity.
A woman across the street shouted at photographers taking pictures of her, “She’s been there for five days, since Monday.” Then she approached to beg for bottled water, or anything at all that might help.
A convoy of five sport utility vehicles passed by, each packed with police training rifles with laser sights on the scant few residents out walking. They sped past the corpse without taking any notice.

If the police have been able to get there to protect property and search the victims who still survive, and if the media can get there to write about what’s going on and to take pictures, why are these people still suffering and dying, and why are there bodies rotting in the midst of all this, on both dry land and flooded streets?

[image by James Nielsen from AFP/Getty Images via the Los Angeles Times]

Federico Solmi is King Kong

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SolmiMcDonald.jpg
SolmiTimesSq.jpg
SolmiJen.jpg

Federico Solmi is in the midst of assembling a stack of a thousand drawings for his newest project, an ambitious hand-colored videoanimation based on the 1933 “King Kong” movie, sort of updated for the twenty-first century, but filled with the kind of anachronisms which fire the imaginations of film buffs everywhere.
In addition to the cast of characters familiar to several generations the world over, the new film will feature the Statue of Libery, McDonald’s golden arches, Charles Lindberg and the Spirit of St. Louis, Gucci, Prada, the Guggenheim and the Gagosian gallery on 24th Street. Solmi and his beautiful wife Jennifer have the staring roles, but this time Solmi’s idol Rocco Sifreddi will be confined to a billboard in Times Square.
We had a peek at some of the gorgeous drawings and a lot of the background magic inside his studio on Thursday, but Solmi will first be showing the film itself in a gallery in Cologne and a museum in Naples this fall. He has also been invited to Miami in early December by a curator with the Pulse Art Fair, and Barry and I will be able to see the finished work there.
I can’t imagine it won’t be shown somewhere in New York this season as well, especially since Solmi promises to add larger-scale drawings, and sculptures reproducing some of its most memorable characters. Ask your local gallerists about their schedules.

[images are jpegs furnished by the artist]

special auras and fuzzes at d.u.m.b.o. arts center (dac)

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Jonathan Podwil Assassinated (112263) #3 2005 oil on linen 22″ x 30″ [large detail]

Brooklyn’s DUMBO is still packed with artist studios, even if the gallery numbers have declined in the last few years. d.u.m.b.o. arts center (dac) is one of the very few still around, and it’s been even lonelier than usual down under the bridge during the time Smack Mellon has been closed (they will be opening in a new space in mid-October).
(dac) is currently showing the work of ten young artists in the wonderfully-spooky exhibition, “Nimbi and Penumbrae.” The show’s title explains why much of the art cannot be easily reproduced in an on-line photograph. This helps explain why I’m including only one image from the installation with this post, Jonathan Podwil‘s reworking, in a very traditional medium, of iconic photo stills attached to an American catharsis* from another era. But actually I’m very fond of Podwil’s work, and these newest paintings are stunning.

*
they seem to be piling up faster these days

a letter from one who escaped a New Orleans refugee camp

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Hundreds of people wait for evacuation buses on the side of Interstate 10 in New Orleans. Many of them were suffering from dehydration after hours of waiting in the heat. [Los Angeles Times caption, image dated August 31]
NewOrleansbusguard.jpg
Gretna police officer Ray Lassiegne stands guard over a busload of evacuees after they were picked up near the Greater New Orleans Bridge just south of New Orleans. [Los Angeles Times caption, image dated September 1]

The following letter was forwarded to me by Steve Quester, who had just received it from a friend. Jordan Flaherty left a refugee camp today on the northern edge of New Orleans.
The first part of the letter is a frightening glimpse of the experience of thousands of hurricane survivors. The remainder is a picture of what they and all of us have lost, together with an indictment of those responsible. He closes with a call for a reconstruction which would honor a great city.
Flaherty is a white activist, originally from Brooklyn, who has lived in New Orleans for the last few years. He is an editor of Left Turn magazine.

Notes From Inside New Orleans
by Jordan Flaherty
Friday, September 2, 2005
I just left New Orleans a couple hours ago. I traveled from the apartment I was staying in by boat to a helicopter to a refugee camp. If anyone wants to examine the attitude of federal and state officials towards the victims of hurricane Katrina, I advise you to visit one of the refugee camps.
In the refugee camp I just left, on the I-10 freeway near Causeway, thousands of people (at least 90% black and poor) stood and squatted in mud and trash behind metal barricades, under an unforgiving sun, with heavily armed soldiers standing guard over them. When a bus would come through, it would stop at a random spot, state police would open a gap in one of the barricades, and people would rush for the bus, with no information given about where the bus was going. Once inside (we were told) evacuees would be told where the bus was taking them – Baton Rouge, Houston, Arkansas, Dallas, or other locations. I was told that if you boarded a bus bound for Arkansas (for example), even people with family and a place to stay in Baton Rouge would not be allowed to get out of the bus as it passed through Baton Rouge. You had no choice but to go to the shelter in Arkansas. If you had people willing to come to New Orleans to pick you up, they could not come within 17 miles of the camp.
I traveled throughout the camp and spoke to Red Cross workers, Salvation Army workers, National Guard, and state police, and although they were friendly, no one could give me any details on when buses would arrive, how many, where they would go to, or any other information. I spoke to the several teams of journalists nearby, and asked if any of them had been able to get any information from any federal or state officials on any of these questions, and all of them, from Australian tv to local Fox affiliates complained of an unorganized, non-communicative, mess. One cameraman told me “as someone who’s been here in this camp for two days, the only information I can give you is this: get out by nightfall. You don’t want to be here at night.”
There was also no visible attempt by any of those running the camp to set up any sort of transparent and consistent system, for instance a line to get on buses, a way to register contact information or find family members, special needs services for children and infirm, phone services, treatment for possible disease exposure, nor even a single trash can.
To understand this tragedy, its important to look at New Orleans itself.
For those who have not lived in New Orleans, you have missed a incredible, glorious, vital, city. A place with a culture and energy unlike anywhere else in the world. A 70% African-American city where resistance to white supremecy has supported a generous, subversive and unique culture of vivid beauty. From jazz, blues and hiphop, to secondlines, Mardi Gras Indians, Parades, Beads, Jazz Funerals, and red beans and rice on Monday nights, New Orleans is a place of art and music and dance and sexuality and liberation unlike anywhere else in the world.
It is a city of kindness and hospitality, where walking down the block can take two hours because you stop and talk to someone on every porch, and where a community pulls together when someone is in need. It is a city of extended families and social networks filling the gaps left by city, state and federal goverments that have abdicated their responsibilty for the public welfare. It is a city where someone you walk past on the street not only asks how you are, they wait for an answer.
It is also a city of exploitation and segregation and fear. The city of New Orleans has a population of just over 500,000 and was expecting 300 murders this year, most of them centered on just a few, overwhelmingly black, neighborhoods. Police have been quoted as saying that they don’t need to search out the perpetrators, because usually a few days after a shooting, the attacker is shot in revenge.
There is an atmosphere of intense hostility and distrust between much of Black New Orleans and the N.O. Police Department. In recent months, officers have been accused of everything from drug running to corruption to theft. In seperate incidents, two New Orleans police officers were recently charged with rape (while in uniform), and there have been several high profile police killings of unarmed youth, including the murder of Jenard Thomas, which has inspired ongoing weekly protests for several months.
The city has a 40% illiteracy rate, and over 50% of black ninth graders will not graduate in four years. Louisiana spends on average $4,724 per child’s education and ranks 48th in the country for lowest teacher salaries. The equivalent of more than two classrooms of young people drop out of Louisiana schools every day and about 50,000 students are absent from school on any given day. Far too many young black men from New Orleans end up enslaved in Angola Prison, a former slave plantation where inmates still do manual farm labor, and over 90% of inmates eventually die in the prison. It is a city where industry has left, and most remaining jobs are are low-paying, transient, insecure jobs in the service economy.
Race has always been the undercurrent of Louisiana politics. This disaster is one that was constructed out of racism, neglect and incompetence.
Hurricane Katrina was the inevitable spark igniting the gasoline of cruelty and corruption. From the neighborhoods left most at risk, to the treatment of the refugees to the the media portayal of the victims, this disaster is shaped by race.
Louisiana politics is famously corrupt, but with the tragedies of this week our political leaders have defined a new level of incompetence. As hurricane Katrina approached, our Governor urged us to “Pray the hurricane down” to a level two. Trapped in a building two days after the hurricane, we tuned our battery-operated radio into local radio and tv stations, hoping for vital news, and were told that our governor had called for a day of prayer. As rumors and panic began to rule, they was no source of solid dependable information. Tuesday night, politicians and reporters said the water level would rise another 12 feet – instead it stabilized. Rumors spread like wildfire, and the politicians and media only made it worse.
While the rich escaped New Orleans, those with nowhere to go and no way to get there were left behind. Adding salt to the wound, the local and national media have spent the last week demonizing those left behind. As someone that loves New Orleans and the people in it, this is the part of this tragedy that hurts me the most, and it hurts me deeply.
No sane person should classify someone who takes food from indefinitely closed stores in a desperate, starving city as a “looter,” but thats just what the media did over and over again. Sherrifs and politicians talked of having troops protect stores instead of perform rescue operations.
Images of New Orleans’ hurricane-ravaged population were transformed into black, out-of-control, criminals. As if taking a stereo from a store that will clearly be insured against loss is a greater crime than the governmental neglect and incompetence that did billions of dollars of damage and destroyed a city. This media focus is a tactic, just as the eighties focus on “welfare queens” and “super-predators” obscured the simultaneous and much larger crimes of the Savings and Loan scams and mass layoffs, the hyper-exploited people of New Orleans are being used as a scapegoat to cover up much larger crimes.
City, state and national politicians are the real criminals here. Since at least the mid-1800s, its been widely known the danger faced by flooding to New Orleans. The flood of 1927, which, like this week’s events, was more about politics and racism than any kind of natural disaster, illustrated exactly the danger faced. Yet government officials have consistently refused to spend the money to protect this poor, overwhelmingly black, city. While FEMA and others warned of the urgent impending danger to New Orleans and put forward proposals for funding to reinforce and protect the city, the Bush administration, in every year since 2001, has cut or refused to fund New Orleans flood control, and ignored scientists warnings of increased hurricanes as a result of global warming. And, as the dangers rose with the floodlines, the lack of coordinated response dramatized vividly the callous disregard of our elected leaders.
The aftermath from the 1927 flood helped shape the elections of both a US President and a Governor, and ushered in the southern populist politics of Huey Long.
In the coming months, billions of dollars will likely flood into New Orleans. This money can either be spent to usher in a “New Deal” for the city, with public investment, creation of stable union jobs, new schools, cultural programs and housing restoration, or the city can be “rebuilt and revitalized” to a shell of its former self, with newer hotels, more casinos, and with chain stores and theme parks replacing the former neighborhoods, cultural centers and corner jazz clubs.
Long before Katrina, New Orleans was hit by a hurricane of poverty, racism, disinvestment, de-industrialization and corruption. Simply the damage from this pre-Katrina hurricane will take billions to repair.
Now that the money is flowing in, and the world’s eyes are focused on Katrina, its vital that progressive-minded people take this opportunity to fight for a rebuilding with justice. New Orleans is a special place, and we need to fight for its rebirth.

[images from the Los Angeles Times, via Newsday, the first by Carolyn Cole, the second by Robert Gauthier]

the picture of the U.S. hidden in the attic until now

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outside the New Orleans convention center today

While still lying abed this morning I listened to the BBC World Service coverage of the New Orleans disaster. Unfortunately I did not get the name of the (American?) woman being interviewed in London who used Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray” as a very dramatic metaphor for our contemporary U.S.
The BBC guy asked her to explain what she meant when she said something like, “we’re now looking at the picture of Dorian Gray which had been hidden in the attic.” She meant that the world can now see the America we have hidden behind the image of prosperity, liberty, equality and well . . . yes, fraternity.
Poor Americans on television? Poor African-Americans on television? And we can all agree they’re certainly not looking their Sunday best. How is that?
I believe the world knows much better than we do what has been going on here for decades, but now they have good pictures.
There was a related reference to this catastrophe’s elements of race and class in a segment from another show this morning. Although I can’t stand the Brian Lehrer Show, this morning I stayed around during the opening segment in order to hear The Nation‘s Katrina vanden Heuvel (whom Rush Limbaugh, taking childish delight in her given name, has blamed for the hurricane and everything else he sees wrong with America). Before her good sense could be “balanced” by someone from what is euphemistically referred to as a “Right-wing thinktank,” vanden Heuvel pointed out that Americans haven’t seen poor people on television for years, and now they are forced to do so, day after day. I would add (I don’t recall if she said something similar herself) that they see these images now only because of events not unrelated to our long-time abandonment of these folks, the least powerful elements of a very cruel, capitalist society quite full of itself.

[image, a pool photo by David J. Phillip, from the NYTimes]

saving a living archive of American social and cultural history

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the author’s home, before the flood


I have a stack of neglected newspapers on my right as I sit here at my laptop looking at the staggering reports of human tragedy flowing in from Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama. I saved yesterday’s NYTimes “House & Home” section for later, mostly because of this article [with another, very different picture] which appeared at the top of the front page. A few minutes ago, while looking for something else, I saw it for the third time on Tyler Green’s site.* I decided I had to read it now, and I’m glad I did. In the midst of so much reason for despair, the writer, Frederick Starr, recalls a community which has been all but destroyed this week, but he also offers some hope for its survival.

My home is there, a West Indian-style plantation house built in 1826, standing as an ancient relic amid a maze of wooden houses a century younger. Some are classic bungalows, but most are distinctly New Orleans building types, with fanciful names like shotguns and camelbacks. I watch as a neighbor is rescued from his rooftop. Dazed, he has emerged from his attic, wriggling through a hole he hacked in the roof, swooped up by a Guardsman on a swinging rope. He is safe. Scores of others aren’t. Bodies float through the streets of the Ninth Ward. Presumably they are from the diverse group that inhabits this deepest-dyed old New Orleans neighborhood: poorer blacks and whites, Creoles of color and a sprinkling of artists.
My neighbor Miss Marie is also one of the lucky ones. Born on the ground floor of what is now my house, she is 81, residing in a shotgun house that her husband, now deceased, built 60 years ago. She has spent most of her life within a perimeter of barely 30 yards. Both her speech and her cooking were formed right there. A painted plaster statue of the Virgin has protected her through all previous storms. But this time she pleaded with my friend John White to take her as he left town. Satellite photos show the shadow of her roof beneath the filthy water. Her house is gone, but John saved her life, driving to Atlanta, sleeping on benches at rest stops.
. . . .
We are just beginning to appreciate the human disaster occurring in New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. Hundreds, maybe thousands, have already perished. Hundreds of thousands will lose their homes and all their worldly possessions. Untold numbers of businesses will close their doors, throwing huge numbers of people out of work. New Orleans, its population already in decline, now faces economic and social collapse.
It also faces the loss of some of America’s most notable historic architecture. Maybe not in the French Quarter, which may emerge relatively intact, or the Garden District, which was spared most of the flooding. The dangers lie in neighborhoods like Tremé and Mid-City, which extend along Bayou Road toward Lake Pontchartrain and are rich in 18th- and 19th-century homes, shops, churches and social halls. They have been badly hit by the violent winds or torrents of water. And so have hundreds of other important buildings and vernacular structures throughout the city and across the breadth of South Louisiana and the Gulf Coast.
. . . .
Louisiana, especially South Louisiana, is a living archive of American social and cultural history, and not just in its buildings. In no other state is the proportion of people born and raised within its borders so high. As a consequence, they are something that is ever more rare in a homogenized and suburbanized America: the living bearers and transmitters of their own history and culture. Katrina, and those fateful levee breaks in New Orleans, put this all at risk.
. . . .
Now [my own house] is under water. If it survives at all, it will need massive rehabilitation. Just as likely, it will go the way of Miss Marie’s house and of hundreds of other pieces of the region’s heritage.
But I do not intend to give up easily. Why? Because I am absolutely convinced that New Orleanians will not allow their city to become a ghost town. And I intend to be part of the renewal that springs from this determination.

*
Go to Green’s site, “Modern Art Notes,” for regular updates on cultural loss in the Gulf area, and suggestions on how to help, along with very helpful links.

[image from the NYTimes]

we’re totally fucked

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A blanket covers the body of a woman who died in a wheelchair, and another body is wrapped in a sheet Thursday at the convention center in New Orleans. [CNN caption]

If we actually were to be the victim of a major deliberate attack any time in the near future it’s now certified that we have no plan, no defense, no means of recovery. This was just a big storm, a very big storm, but just a storm, and there’s no radiation or poison weaponry involved, yet it’s been five days and virtually no help of any kind has arrived for our good neighbors, the people of New Orleans. They’re dying in the attics, on the roofs and in the hell of the “shelters.”
This time even the major commercial media can’t keep quiet about the incompetence of what passes for government today in our benighted land:
New Orleans hospitals desperate as food runs low

The Associated Press
Doctors at two desperately crippled hospitals in New Orleans called The Associated Press Thursday morning pleading for rescue, saying they were nearly out of food and power and had been forced to move patients to higher floors to escape looters.
“We have been trying to call the mayor’s office, we have been trying to call the governor’s office … we have tried to use any inside pressure we can. We are turning to you. Please help us,” said Dr. Norman McSwain, chief of trauma surgery at Charity Hospital, the larger of two public hospitals.
. . . .
Earlier, McSwain described horrific conditions in his hospital.
“There is no food in Charity Hospital. They’re eating fruit bowl punch and that’s all they’ve got to eat. There’s minimal water,” McSwain said.
“Most of their power is out. Much of the hospital is dark. The ICU (intensive care unit) is on the 12th floor, so the physicians and nurses are having to walk up floors to see the patients.”
Dr. Lee Hamm, chairman of medicine at Tulane University, said he took a canoe from there to the two public hospitals, where he also works, to check conditions.
“The physicians and nurses are doing an incredible job, but there are patients laying on stretchers on the floor, the halls were dark, the stairwells are dark. Of course, there’s no elevators. There’s no communication with the outside world,” he said.
“We’re afraid that somehow these two hospitals have been left off … that somehow somebody has either forgotten it or ignored it or something, because there is no evidence anything is being done.”
Hamm said there was relief Wednesday as word traveled throughout University Hospital that the National Guard was coming to evacuate them, but the rescue never materialized.
“You can imagine how demoralizing that was,” he said.

And here is the Reuters lead headline at this moment (try to get past the racist analogy and digest the substance of the story):
Bodies, gunfire and chaos in New Orleans’ streets

NEW ORLEANS (Reuters) – Rotting bodies littered the flooded streets of New Orleans on Thursday and mounting violence threatened to turn into all-out anarchy as thousands of survivors of Hurricane Katrina pleaded to be evacuated, or even just fed.
The historic jazz city has fallen prey to armed looters since Katrina tore through and it now more closely resembles Haiti or another Third World trouble spot in a refugee crisis than one of America’s most popular vacation centers.
Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco warned rioters and looters late on Thursday that National Guard troops were under her orders to “shoot and kill” if needed to restore order.
“These troops are battle-tested. They have M-16s and are locked and loaded,” she said. “These troops know how to shoot and kill and I expect they will.”
Police units, rescue teams and even hospital workers came under gunfire on Thursday and New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin pleaded for urgent help in getting thousands of evacuees to safety. “This is a desperate SOS,” he said.
People became increasingly frustrated at the slow pace of rescue and evacuation efforts a full three days after Katrina tore up the U.S. Gulf Coast.
Elderly people in wheelchairs braved flooded streets in search of help, and entire families were trapped on elevated highways without food or water in sweltering heat.
“We want help,” people chanted at the city convention center, where thousands of evacuees were told to seek shelter only to find woefully inadequate supplies of food or water.
Several corpses lay in nearby streets. The body of one elderly woman was simply abandoned in her wheelchair, covered with just a blanket. Officials feared thousands of people were killed but they could still only guess at the death toll.

And all the suits and uniforms seem to be thinking about is how to put down “looting” by desperate people reduced to nothing. Fifty thousand troops have been promised, no, threatened, and they have orders to shoot, but still there is no sign of food, nor water, nor rescue, nor means of evacuation from the city, nor decent shelter once they get out.
We are truly fucked, and next time it won’t be mostly just the poor, the old, the sick and the powerless.

[image, photographer uncredited, from CNN]