Nightmare on Vicksburg St.
submitted by PGK T.Wade Wright
Our Council 3729 (St. Dominic) home is located at 6254 Vicksburg
Street on the outskirts of the downtown area of New Orleans.
Basically, within a stone throw of Lake Pontchartrain.
I am a Past Grand Knight and Board Member for our building
maintenance program. As one of the younger guys in the Council and
not having children, I find myself contributing a lot of time to the
K of C and the different events we run. As a side job, I have been
the building manager for close to 20-years, renting for socials in
order to pay the utility bills and building insurance premiums.
On August 28th the nightmare
began. Hurricane Katrina was bearing down on our beautiful
neighborhood with potential landfall late at night or early morning.
With my mother in the hospital with heart failure, I elected to stay
and ride the storm out with my wife – Barbara like I have done many
times before. My experience told me that the storm dissipates once
they hit resistance from marsh land vegetation and obstructions.
With the large levees and wall that were built after Hurricane
Betsy, I felt protected and only projected slight street flooding,
if any.
Sunday evening the sky was
beautiful and clear, as sunset arrived the night because nasty and
violent. The storm was leaving the Gulf of Mexico and barring down
the Eastern region of the city with winds kicking out of the North –
attaching our flood protection system. It was around 9:00pm the
tress began to bend and snap and power lines started dancing like
jumping rope that I became concerned that this was the “Big One”.
Debris started flying and hitting the house, I told my wife to pack
a few things for an over night stay at the KC Hall. I felt we would
be secure there since it had solid concrete panel walls. Barbara
gathered a pillow and blanket and a few food items, plus our
portable radio which guided our every step by keeping us abreast of
the path that hurricane Katrina was taken. Little did I know that
life would never be the same.
I drove my VW through stiff and howling
winds with all our worldly processions thrown in a pillow slip. Once
at the hall we bunkered down in the kitchen. We made ourselves
comfortable, turned on the TV, until the winds started taking down
the communication lines. With the power off, we used flashlights and
candles to find our way in the large spooky hall. It was non stop
howling of winds during the night, ripping and tearing roofs off of
houses and launching tree limps like guided missiles throw the air.
I kept taking sneak peaks outside side kitchen door. The rain
rotated between light and heavy. This was nothing I have not
experienced before as a “storm rider” during my years of living in
New Orleans. Having made it through Hurricane Betsy in the 60s so I
am a veteran.
Early morning approached and the winds
began to die down, as I looked out the front door I could see clear
spots in the solid black sky, a good indication the storm was
breaking up. I noticed that the street had about 7-inches of water
from the rain squalls that were persistent all night. I went back in
the kitchen and told my wife-Barbara that we will start walking home
in an hour and leave the V/W (classic) here till the water went
down. Seemed like a plan.
Around 9:30 a.m. (Aug 29) my wife
screamed there was water coming under all the doors. I rushed to get
towels and material to try and seal the leaks but to no avail. The
water intensified as it pours between the sides of the door. I tried
to open the door, but the pressure had it sealed tight. Immediately,
I went upstairs and climb the ladder to get on the flat roof which I
been on a hundred times doing odd jobs. As I approached the ledge
and could see the visible destruction, my heart went in my throat.
The adjacent school yard and street was under 3 to 4-feet of water.
The water flowed anything that was not tied down and the eddy
current threw garbage cans, signs and debris down the street.
I knew there was a major problem and it
was coming from Lake Pontchartrain. Something told my wife that the
levee system had failed, it may have been the Blessed Mother who I
was praying too the last 24-hours. I was praying to God it was not a
major problem and for the water to stop – it never did stop until it
reached 12-feet. It just kept pouring into the neighborhood and
filling the KC hall like a bathtub. The stage located in the front
of the hall started flowing and banging into the walls of the
building leaving holes. The toilets and floor drains began to spout
black muddy water with a sewer gaseous smell. I alerted my wife
that we grab everything we can start heading upstairs for safety. As
the water began to creep up the stairs the fire alarms went off and
the gas plot flames on the stove were chocked out by the water. The
gas smell began to rise and get stronger. I made the decision we
needed to head for the flat roof and ride it out up there. We
crawled between the trusses to get to the hatch that allows us
to exit onto the roof. Opening the hatch I felt a rush of hot air.
The morning air had an empty feeling
even though we heard the sounds of screaming car alarms and business
alarms flashing as if someone had broken in the building. It is
strange how the sounds are magnified 100-times when bouncing off the
water surface. In the distance we could hear people stuck in their
houses yelling for help.
No telling from what direction it was coming, I had no way to help
or assist. I just started praying faster and faster. I asked
the Blessed Mother to protect my wife and help us though this
ordeal. I never prayed so hard.
Having been on the roof many times in
the past for maintenance, I had kept a couple of tarpaulins along
with some rope that I used to cover the A/C units when one broke.
This allowed me to make a shelter for us to get under to protect
from the rising hot August sun. As day break came, and the street
scene became visible and our hearts were sad to see the mass
devastation around us. The entire neighborhood along with all the
businesses and Knights of Columbus hall destroyed after 38-years of
living here. You could not see the tops of cars due the height of
the water which was approximately 12-feet deep.
I began thinking about how we were going
to get off this roof and where do we go once we are down. I only had
my wallet and $50.00. The majority of the city had evacuated and the
rest are like us, fighting to survive. Everyone is in the same
predicament. Listening to the radio we heard the horror being
encountered by our citizens who stayed behind. The magnitude was
beyond comprehension. As we listened to the emergency band they
provided information from people who had cell phones and were
directing escape routes out of the city, if you could reach them.
With the hot sun beating down on the
metal roof we began waving at helicopters flying over head like
bees. I waved my white T-shirt to no avail. I believe the rescuers
where letting us wait. They had more serious rescue effort to make
and we were not in jeopardy.
Night time came fast and no success in attracting a rescue
operation. My wife was an emotional wreck and told me to rest until
the next day’s sunlight. Around 11:00p.m, I heard a motor boat
engine reflecting off the water and it was coming from the main
street called Canal Blvd. I also saw they were shining a spot light
in the trees and along the water. It was our prayers that directed
the boat, which happened to be the N.O. Fire Department Rescue Boat,
our way. I had a flashlight on the roof with which I managed to get
their attention. When they came up to the building they were 20-feet
below the roof. They had no way of getting us down. So I used the
heavy rope and made a sling around my wife’s waist and lowered her
down the wall into the arms of the firemen. I tightened the rope to
the exhaust vent on the roof and lowered myself into the boat. I
said a prayer and thanked the Blessed Mother for getting us off the
roof.
As the boat meandered between and under
downed electric and communication lines we headed for the Interstate
610 ramp. Heading down Canal Blvd. in the pitch of night we were
disoriented in direction. We stopped to rescue as many people as we
could get in the boat. My worst experience was the young man that
stayed with his elderly mother because she would not leave her
house. The firemen told the boy that they would die if they stayed
behind – I hope they didn’t. I will never forget that moment in my
life. The firemen begged the woman to come with us to no avail. We
proceeded to the Interstate 610 ramp where we were left to wait in
the hot New Orleans night for military transportation to the
Superdome.
Citizen
Journalist-article as it was submitted to MSNBC on
September 1st, 2005 at 07:49am, CST
I am Donald A.
Sauviac, Jr. a criminal defense attorney. As
of Thursday Sept 1, 2005 at 7:49 a.m., I am
holed up in a third generation family home
located at Weiblen and Vicksburg Streets in
the Lakeview area of New Orleans. My wife
and four daughters left just before the
storm and managed to make it to Memphis,
Tenn. where they have three rooms with
friends who left Metairie. I have two collie
dogs and a bird here with me. The dogs are
holding up on the second story flat roof
with the generator. I am on the second story
of the house a converted double. I have a 22
ft. pontoon boat tied up on the side street.
I have plenty of food and water. I keep
using the generator to charge up my phone
and listen to the radio to figure out what
is going on around me. I just moved into
this house from a house in Metairie, which
is known for flooding. As fate would have it
the Metairie house that was up for sale is
high and dry with no apparent damage.
The house I'm in
had calf high water up to the second step of
the inside stairwell. The water has subsided
in the last day it only covers the first
step. (the house is up on piers and from the
sidewalk it comes up to my chest standing --
I guess the total depth was about 5 ft.
Until yesterday I had clear running water in
the upstairs sink, toilet and tub --
probably ok for washing off but not to
drink. In a two block are there seems to be
about a dozen people who are staying at this
time. We check in on each other and talk by
wading down and/or from windows or rooftops.
Crying on the
Boulevard
submitted by, PGK Donald A.
Sauviac, Jr. Lakeview, New Orleans, Louisiana
The moment of decision
came while I was sitting outside my devastated law office on Canal Boulevard
a few days after we were allowed to reenter the city. I had just cleared
out my third generation family home a few blocks away which I had just moved
into 8 days before the storm. Everything was still boxed up on the first
floor when the water started rising and I had no contents insurance. Almost
everything was now out of the office and I had no office insurance since I
thought my office was situated on a hill when in fact it was just next to a
hole. I looked over everything and had decided most of it was destroyed.
The photos were dissolving, the furniture was in pieces, the books had mold
and the equipment was already rusting. I had some items washed and drying
but still posing little hope of salvage. My eyes were swollen due to the
mold exposure and I was coughing up something that seemed harmful to my
health. There had been little activity except a few workers trying to clear
the drain under the railroad overpass. Everyone was now gone from the area
due to it being dusk.
I looked across the
street at the Plantation Coffee house and saw dozens of flooded cars. I
looked to my left in the direction where I had grown up as a child. I
looked to my right where my Grandparent’s home, now mine, was located. I
looked at Greenwood cemetery behind me where my parents and grand parents
were buried. Finally, I looked at my office contents, my sunken boat and my
newly purchased El Camino which I had parked at my office to stay “high and
dry”. I just started to cry and cry and cry all by myself. I finally
stopped when it got really dark. I had to load up or risk that the few
seemingly salvageable would be stolen by looters.
Suddenly it hit me that
my parents had the exact same experience during Hurricane Betsy when I was 2
years old and lived in Gentilly. They had shielded me from much of the pain
of that experience and rebounded to be very successful business people. I
knew I had to do the same thing and try to shield my four daughters from
this present similar disaster. So far I have accomplished a lot with the
help of many people -relatives, friends, and even total strangers. I still
cry every so often, particularly when I hear about people who have died or
see pictures of my fellow New Orleanians struggling after the levees broke
just as I did in Lakeview when I chose to remain for the storm. It is
getting better since I have been very fortunate. I moved back into my
grandparent’s home, my children are back in school, my wife is back at work
and I have temporary office arrangements. Things are still not Pre-Katrina
“normal” but Post-Katrina “normal” is something quite different.
Nevertheless I am glad to be at the only place I have ever called home.
My Experiences After Katrina
Submitted
by PGK Marcel Farnet
When Madeleine and I arrived home after
living for six weeks in Fayetteville, Arkansas and after I had a chance to
survey the damage to our home on Lane St. I went to the Christopher room to
see if I could get in. All the doors are steel fire doors, all, very rusty
including hinges and locks. Nothing could open with my key as I expected. I
saw no reason to force my way inside but made plans as how to proceed. After
several days I decided to try WD 40 on the locks and key holes. I knew this
was “a long shot” as my key had no movement at all. Every few days for the
next 2 weeks I tried the same WD 40 treatment to the all the locks. After a
couple of weeks I began to notice a slight turning movement in the front
door key. That made me even more determined than ever to be able to get in
the place. Finally, after more work with hammer and chisel I pulled the
front door opened and with no damage. It was an eerie
feeling knowing the sun hadn’t shined inside for months and I was first to
see the terrible damage to our KC home. It was much like discovering and
opening an old tomb.
It was truly a sad sight to see all of our
“stuff” strewn all over the place and everything
covered with the black “goo” as we all have
experienced. I could hear water running but wasn’t able to get over to it
then because of all the equipment that was in the way. Refrigerators, beer
cooler, kegs, tanks, SS sink, island cabinet and stage were all piled in the
way, on top of each other and all on a very slick floor. Another week
passed, this trip I managed to open all doors to let the sun light and fresh
air in and carefully worked my way over to the broken water lines that had
been running wide opened since the storm. I returned in a few days equipped
to shut off the water at the meter and cap off the broken lines. I knew we
would need the water pressure when we would begin our cleanup. The first
sign of life in our building was having water back on in the kitchen
scullery sink.
I was surprised to see how the fresh air
and sun light seemed to make the place come alive again. It wasn’t long
after that that the members started, one by one at first, than a crowd came
and started the “gutting out” as we all had to do. A few work weekends of
hard work by brother knights and friends and volunteer groups and the main
hall floor was “more or less” emptied of all the furniture including 300
chairs, bingo tables, 500lb
ice maker, refrigerators, etc. It was during this process that the
feeling was there to get back into our business
of being a working Knights of Columbus council once again.
