DJ Diplomacy
by Davis Rogan

The Palais Royale. NOLAFugees correspondent and cultural ambassador Davis Rogan on his recent trip to visit the French Minister of Culture.

Le Swing is the bar in Saumur where I do my Saturday afternoon thing.  I was packed up and having my good-bye beer when I told the fellas where I'd be that Monday.

"I'm having breakfast at the Palais Royale in Paris with the Minister of Culture.”

"Our Minister of Culture?" the barback asked.

This took me back a second.

"Dude, you think we even got a minister of culture? Of course your minister."

I'm the one Artist in Residence in France on the date of the Anniversary, so I've been invited to attend the Minister's breakfast in Paris.  Now, I try to avoid sitting in my office in France and getting sucked into the New Orleans papers online, so I don't know. 

But I can only hope that someone has pointed out that using just one day to commemorate this disaster is dumb. 9-11 was made for anniversaries. New York, bad Arabs, it all went own in the space of one hour.  Our disaster is huge and lumbering and undefined and spread out over much time and space for many people.

So it's Monday morning, August 28th.  Maybe we're doing this a day before so the papers can have a story on the "exact" date.  In a spacious lobby I was introduced in French to six or so folks who responded to me in French so I had no idea they were there from the US Embassy until one lady stepped aside and introduced herself in perfect Midwest English.  Then I met the French architect who is working in Treme and we were all escorted into a huge room with 18 foot ceilings, gold filigree crown molding and a table for twenty. (The Saloon Jerome for all you Palais Royal buffs in the audience.) Twelve of the seats were filled by what turned out to be the French and American press, there was a baby grand piano, a Rameau, and I played "Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans?" as the Minster walked in.  As the room politely clapped as I took my seat and informed them the song was written by a Frenchman.

Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres, French Cultural Minister.

After a brief introduction the Minister went into an outline of the steps the government of France is taking to help New Orleans:

1) Artist-in-residences for New Orleans musicians.
2) Fixing musicians’ houses in Treme.
3) Loaning objects d'art from the great museums of France to NOMA for an exhibition.

Bear in mind this is all being conducted in French, so I'm running about 50 to 75% comprehension. Fortunately, they're sticking to topics where my vocabulary is strong: music, New Orleans, levees. The Minister makes some apologies for the large dog who is wandering in and around the room. I'd assumed the dog was a Norman ruling class affectation.  The Minister mentioned that he'd just gotten back from his vacation. 

And then he spoke to a slender, stern, acne-scarred gentleman I'd been introduced to earlier.  There was some sort of playful joke about how the Ambassador or Consul from the United States was not at the breakfast today because he was with Prince Charles who was somewhere in France.

I understand the Ambassador’s priorities.  After all, Prince Charles had toured the Lower Ninth Ward long before I was even allowed back home.

Stern, slender, scarred man (who for brevity's sake will be referred to henceforth as Slim Mc Nasty) made measured, polite replies in what I guess was good French, but the accent was weird.  Anyway, I gathered that he was the main representative of the US government at the table.

The Minister wrapped up the presentation, did a quick Q&A with the architect about his houses in Treme, and asked me if I'd like to add anything. I went for my notebook.  "You can speak in English if you need to," he added politely.  But I was ready, I'd spent all yesterday afternoon with my friend Anne, a French radio journalist, translating a speech, really digging into it and learning the words so I could deliver it with proper cadences and conviction.

I thanked everyone in advance for their patience with my bad pronunciation and I launched into it. I opened with this: Hurricane Katrina and the failure of the US Army Corps of Engineers levee system combined to make the worst man made/natural disaster in the History of the United States. Anyone can hit me back and I'll send you the text of the speech, the gist of which was: it ain't all good in New Orleans right now and thank you Mr. Minister for recognizing the role that art and artists play in the healing of a wounded city.

The speech, which the French loved, apparently didn't please the Embassy folks. I was too involved with correct and timing and pronunciation to notice that I'd raised the ire of Slim McNasty.

The Minister opened the floor to questions from reporters and an older lady from the French Press addressed Slim. Was Mr. McNasty aware of the location of the Hurricane in the Gulf right now, and were the people of New Orleans concerned?

"Well I wasn't briefed of the location this morning, but the people of New Orleans aren't worried about it," he said.

Suddenly the REASON I was in France became apparent. I cleared my throat. "Pardon me, madam.  The gentleman here speaks for the Government of the United States and I am here to speak for the people of New Orleans.  The hurricane, named Ernesto, is over Cuba right now."  (I'd had my first dose of CNN in months that morning at the hotel.) "The levees, made by the US Army Corps of Engineers, which failed, have not been repaired yet.  With global warming hurricanes are only going to get bigger and stronger and the people of New Orleans are very afraid."  I used peur and inquietude.

There was a moment of silence as reporters scribbled and Slim glared at me, perhaps regretting the day that Thomas Jefferson agreed to buy my hometown and surrounding environs off Napoleon Bonaparte.  Another member of the Embassy crew turned to the reporter and said she, too, was from New Orleans, and she'd just spoken with her relatives and they weren't worried about a thing. I wasn't fully aware of what the lady was saying, and I was under the impression that this Embassy Woman was a French Cultural honcho in charge of the purse strings in Lafayette, so I let her comment slide. Embassy woman approached me after the meeting.  She was born in New Orleans but she hadn't lived there since she was three.  Yesterday was her birthday and she'd called relatives in New Orleans, who weren't worried about the hurricane.  She explained since she worked for the U.S. government that she had to keep things positive, and really, wouldn't it make the best sense to keep the French Quarter but move the rest of the city a little further up river, yes?  Of everyone, ministers, bureaucrats and press, she was the Other New Orleanian in the room with me.

I broke off with her at that point as Herr Mc Nasty was about to slink past me and out the door. "I'm sorry to call you out like that," I said, "but somebody's gotta speak the truth."

Slim was magnanimous. "I understand you're upset," he said, "but I've got to stick to my talking points."

So there you have it folks.  Talking points from the State Department: Tout ca fait bien en Nouvelle Orleans. For those of you back home with problems and worries you can stop right now.  According to the State Department—you have none.

Davis Rogan is a musician, New Orleanian, and life-changer.