Bargewatch:  Born and Razed

In a world in which the stoops that remain look more like mausoleums, where some homeowners, Common Ground Relief and ACORN workers, and a lawyer stand side by side protesting the demolition of largely already decimated properties and lives, the question still remains, “where do you we go from here?” 

Much of the situation comes down to facades – those of the splintered or rotten homes, and the faces of politicians and workers as they bear down on the work ahead.  One woman pauses her minivan in front of me on N. Claiborne, while I jot down some notes and balance on a bicycle:  “Buying some houses?”

When I answer “no,” an instant camaraderie is formed.  Still, the veneer of tourists, real estate opportunists, and folks returning home looks much the same – a kind of sad horror.

 However, during that recent Sunday afternoon sojourn to the still-blocked off but easily accessed barge, I watched a FEMA worker pose two other personnel with their arms around each other.  His voice, startlingly loud and coming through a smile, indicated his opinion on portraits and art, with the wreckage of the breach in the background:  “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.” 

Symbolic of the breaks in the industrial canal are the holes in security.  The long, barbed, chain link fence staked along the wall construction is penetrable in some spots by most people older than toddlers.  In fact, I simply walked on each driveway, one near the barge breach and another farther up the canal leading to another large gap, passing the Do Not Enter and Danger signs, for some photographs of the building efforts.  Eventually, I was escorted away by a mellow contractor who explained the Authorized Personnel Only signs were there for a reason.  Apparently, a recent influx of visitors has prevented the workers from covering their agenda.  

Near the corner of Tennessee and N. Claiborne, a nice couple from New Orleans East, in from their temporary abode in Port Arthur, Texas, and reporting on the state of things to their family – all of whom lost everything – mention how difficult it is to be away but also to return, because to what, exactly, is there to return?  Both were proudly “born and raised” here.  Rhetorically and through glassy eyes, Linda asks what to do now.  Later, her companion Hal offers:  “Give me a piece of plywood and some bricks.  I’m ready to rebuild.”  And I believe him, even after a wind kicks up and whips the fecal, front-yard dust at us.  

Constantly, the sounds of Cajun (the company) Contractors, the cranes and drills, bear into our conversation.  SUVs and pickups pass on their way to view the barge, most bearing Louisiana, Texas, and a handful of Florida plates.  A couple of inspectors, equipped with clipboards and tape measures, ease behind us.  They find that a colleague or competitor has already pasted the orange condemned sticker to the home, one that may square up with a bulldozer in the coming weeks, leveling the wasteland.  The Common Ground Relief workers - a dozen or so sets of visiting activist eyes - make headway on their legal squat at 1700 Deslonde, one block from the misplaced barge, a few blocks west of last week’s anti-bulldozer protest, and among a neighborhood that was once, according to the year 2000 Census Bureau report, 98.3% black, with 4,820 households.

Two frigates, circling overhead, appear more like vultures against the carnage all around – a sign?  Linda notes the Scripture:  Jesus will come like a thief in the night.  So, did we know this was coming?  Thoughts of robed Corpsmen and politicians growing fat around the table come to mind.

In the end and before anything new comes to this now-trafficked and highly photographed neighborhood in the Lower Ninth Ward, it’s up to those who own, rented, and lost to decide what happens to the property and the land.  The January 11 and 12 Times-Picayune headlines offer that a four-month return and livability study is underway, that green space has been designated – a chunk of it in the breach-way, and building permits for homeowners are on hold - something the mayor supports but is uncomfortable with.  Perhaps esteemed local lyricist Juvenile, during the making of a new video in his neighborhood, will create enough noise and funding to stimulate regeneration and a speedier revitalization. 

Finally, with a war abroad “that could top 2 trillion (Christian Science Monitor),” the sickening feeling followed by an energy drain that overcomes after a trip into the Lower Nine, may be entered into the medical books.  We’ll call it Heartbreak. 

Since the first installment of Bargewatch, tourism has been booming.

How does Juvie fit in with the 4 month viability plan?