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New Orleans Endures the ‘New Normal’

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Times Staff Writer

They are signature scenes of the city: tourists on Bourbon Street, diners savoring breakfast at Brennan’s, revelers dancing at Tipitina’s, crowds at the street fairs and music festivals.

Almost 11 months after Hurricane Katrina struck, these scenes suggest the city is “back.”

But most New Orleanians are stuck in a different scene, one set against a backdrop of moldy sheet rock, plywood, broken tiles and twisted metal littering median strips for miles at a stretch, and in which every park or defunct strip mall has become a trailer city.

Much attention has been paid to the storm’s death toll and massive property destruction, but what is remarkable today is how much everyday life in this city has changed.

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People make their homes in temporary lodging that offers neither stability nor the familiarity of their own belongings. The market where they shopped: closed. The schools their children attended: still shuttered and empty.

Lifelong bonds with cherished neighbors have been broken; in many neighborhoods, few are left. In their version of life in New Orleans, people wonder how their lives will feel normal again.

Marie Benoit, 52, feels the disjunction between the New Orleans the world wants to see and the one she lives in.

“They saw carnival. They saw Jazz Fest. They think everything is OK. ‘Get over it; it’s over,’ ” said Benoit, an elementary school teacher sent into premature retirement by Katrina. Her house remains a pile of rubble in the city’s Lower 9th Ward. “But it’s not over.”

In fact, it’s far from over.

At least 125,000 properties in New Orleans were damaged or destroyed by wind, water and fire. Rebuilding those that could be salvaged is only now, with the recent passage of the federal spending bill providing hurricane relief, beginning on a large scale. At the end of the school year, 25 of 128 New Orleans public schools had reopened; and just 12,000 of the city’s 60,000 students had returned. By September, 57 schools with space for up to 34,000 students are expected to be open, although according to school officials, there only will be staff to handle 22,000.

Three of 11 hospitals are open in Orleans Parish, where New Orleans is located, according to Louisiana state statistics. The police force is down by about 200 officers from its pre-storm strength of 1,668.

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Although power has been restored to most of the city, in severely ravaged neighborhoods, street after street remains dark after sundown. Water service is generally back, but the pressure is often very low due to leaks in the city’s storm-fractured system.

Residents still complain of delays in mail delivery. Postal officials say service has resumed throughout inhabited areas of the city, but hundreds of residents in districts hit hardest by the storm are limited to retrieving their mail once every 10 days at a post office.

Twenty-eight of the city’s 46 bus routes are operating; transportation consultants have recommended the routes be further cut to 24. More than 550 of the Regional Transit Authority’s 1,340 employees did not return to work after Katrina. Scores of traffic lights throughout the city are still malfunctioning.

Dry cleaners are hard to find, and even in neighborhoods where some people have moved back and are trying to rebuild, there are no supermarkets, no banks, no restaurants, no churches.

On Sunday afternoons along the banks of Bayou St. John near the Mid-City neighborhood, people used to walk their dogs, bike and barbecue. Today, silence has replaced the shouts of children. In fact, most playgrounds have been converted into trailer parks, and many recreation centers have been shuttered -- though the city recently announced that it would resurrect youth recreational programs this summer, including several pools.

One source of daily frustration is a constant eyesore: the mountains of storm debris still piled on backstreet sidewalks and lining median strips on some thoroughfares. For months, rat-infested graveyards of storm-wrecked cars clogged many freeway underpasses. They are only now beginning to be cleared away.

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Despite a joint cleanup effort by government agencies that has removed 17.6 million pounds of waste, the city’s unintended new emblem is a pile of storm debris.

“If you’re not in the French Quarter, you live with trash, blighted houses and abandoned cars,” said Patricia Meyer, who was flooded out of her home in the Bywater neighborhood. “There isn’t one person who isn’t touched by the devastation and the lack of assistance in cleaning it up.”

Some neighborhoods of the Lower 9th remain officially off-limits. Electricity is erratic or nonexistent. If water flows, it is not safe to drink, or even take a shower in, without boiling it first.

Authorities are still finding bodies in abandoned homes.

Post-Katrina life is one of challenges and indignities. “I call it ‘the new normal,’ ” Benoit said. The expression has become a common one here.

Other terms have also crept into the post-Katrina vernacular. Almost 11 months later, the greeting “How ya doing?” is often replaced by “How’d ya do?” -- referring to how a person fared after Katrina.

The thousands of people who live in FEMA trailers, the travel campers issued by the Federal Emergency Management Agency as temporary accommodation, often call them “the tin can.”

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And then there is “the Katrina 15,” referring to the pounds many residents say they have gained due to post-hurricane stress.

The difficulties facing Benoit, a teacher for 28 years, are not atypical.

The $232 per month in disaster unemployment assistance that she had been living off of was terminated in May, forcing her to begin surviving on scant personal savings.

Though she is still paying the mortgage on her devastated home, Benoit lives in a FEMA trailer in a park of 500 campers.

Used to her independence, Benoit must now rely on her sister and friends to shop for groceries. Her maroon 1993 Nissan Altima, nicknamed Nelly, was destroyed in the storm.

Benoit lost almost everything she owned. The belongings she has accumulated since the storm, primarily through charity, fit into two or three suitcases. She once had a 25-pair shoe collection; it’s now down to four pairs.

She misses the privacy of her home and the camaraderie of her neighborhood. Benoit wants to return, although she has heard of only three neighbors within three blocks of her house who intend to come back.

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She cried as she spoke of the separation from another sister, now in Chicago, and other family members displaced across the country.

Tears flow easily in this city these days.

Everyone in New Orleans has a tale of loss and hardship.

A study published by the University of New Orleans last month found the city’s residents were sleeping less, worrying more, and were wracked with anxiety over normally mundane tasks like getting mail, making home repairs, buying groceries and finding medical care.

Lack of concentration, sadness and irritability were common symptoms of the 470 residents interviewed by phone in Orleans and Jefferson parishes in March and April, the survey found.

“It tells us that people are living in New Orleans under difficulties that we normally don’t expect in American life,” said University of New Orleans political scientist Susan Howell, who organized the poll with researchers from Louisiana State University.

And the respondents are among those living in the “best” conditions -- in a house or apartment with a telephone landline, not in a trailer.

Howell said one of the most troubling factors was that people were more worried about what might happen to them over the next five years than they were over the fate of their city.

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“It’s personalized,” Howell said. The nervousness and stress were classic signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, she said.

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A disturbing sign of normality is the escalating crime.

In the Holy Cross historic preservation neighborhood, part of the Lower 9th Ward, looters are on the prowl.

They have been stealing valuable decorations from historic homes, such as wrought-iron fencing, ornate gingerbread trimmings, doors, brackets and shutters.

The hum of generators also invites thieves, residents say. The sound signals that someone is living on a dark, sparsely populated street and might have something worth taking. Propane tanks attached to FEMA trailers also have been disappearing.

Moving into a trailer less than a month ago has put Ethel McClinton on the road to recovery. But her life has been fraught with further losses.

Thieves stole the red metal ornaments that were embedded under the front awning of McClinton’s double-shotgun-style home on Dauphine Street. They also swiped the wooden frames from the house’s windows and doors.

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“We really wanted to come back to secure our house,” said McClinton, 57, a cook at the city’s airport.

On the next block, looters made off with two of Rodney Craft’s generators and about $70,000 worth of tools and construction material, such as lumber, doors, windows and lights, according to Craft’s wife, Sikandra Blue-Craft.

The Crafts are repairing their sprawling house in hopes of eventually bringing all six Craft siblings and Rodney Craft’s 83-year-old mother back home. Craft, a builder, and his wife saved for years to buy their home on Dauphine Street, a fixer-upper that was to become their dream home.

The couple installed a closed-circuit TV to monitor their sprawling 9,200-square-foot property.

Several houses on McClinton’s block remain untouched. Just three of her neighbors are back, and she knows many don’t plan to return.

But the McClintons have re-wired their home, fixed the plumbing and installed a new roof on the beige wooden structure. Its red-trimmed doors and windows are now covered with iron bars. They’re waiting for the end of this hurricane season to install sheet rock and new floors.

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Katrina forced thousands from the city’s workforce to flee to other towns and states. The low-income workers lived in public housing units, most of which are still closed.

Meanwhile, house prices and rents have skyrocketed.

Public housing residents have been clamoring to return, and over the last few weeks, hundreds have been coming home for the first time since the storm. Residents of St. Bernard Housing Development in the 7th Ward, who had erected a “Survivors Village” outside the city’s largest public housing complex, recently learned the units are among hundreds slated for demolition under a federal plan to rid New Orleans of obsolete public housing in favor of modern developments.

The tenants said they planned to fight the decision, but housing officials, citing safety concerns such as collapsing lumber and mold, said the demolition would move ahead. At other public housing developments, former tenants have broken down doors and sneaked through broken fences to reach their units and begin cleaning them.

No place to live means no place to settle while looking for a job in a market that needs workers.

A quarter-mile stretch of Gen. De Gaulle Drive in Algiers on the city’s west bank illustrates the demand. A sign outside a Burger King, next door to a Taco Bell and across the street from Popeye’s Chicken -- both of which are seeking employees -- announces that the chain is also hiring, for “up to $10 an hour.” A nearby gas station publicizes that it is offering “a signing bonus.” A few stores down, a placard on a flower shop proclaims its search for “friendly, happy people, designers and drivers.”

Why has so little progress been made almost 11 months after the storm? Even Mayor C. Ray Nagin has acknowledged that preparation for the city’s mayoral and municipal elections in May diverted time and attention from rebuilding efforts. Nagin was elected to a second four-year term.

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Many criticize the apparent foot-dragging of the federal government as it releases funds. New Orleans City Council President Oliver Thomas said Congress keeps adding conditions for aid money. “This adds to the conspiracy, for those who believe in conspiracy theories,” he said.

Others charge that the lack of government assistance in predominantly black neighborhoods, and the slow pace of restoring utilities there, smacks of racism.

But amid the uncertainty of post-Katrina life, city officials point to the 70,000 building permits issued to New Orleans residents since September, declining unemployment and the partial return of the hospitality industry. After Katrina, the number of available hotel rooms fell from 38,600 to 1,260. Today, there are 27,900. Rowdy crowds have returned to the French Quarter’s Bourbon Street and to the Aquarium of the Americas, where more than 10,000 fish died after Katrina. The aquarium reopened Memorial Day weekend.

Plans were announced in May for a $715-million revitalization plan, spearheaded by Strategic Hotel and Resorts, the Chicago-based owner of the Hyatt Regency New Orleans. The project would include renovation of the hotel complex and City Hall, and a new Jazz Park.

The hardships have given birth to a greater community spirit. Dozens of volunteer clean-up groups have formed, and scores of neighborhood associations are bringing residents together to plan the future of their communities.

A New Orleans that is truly “back” will require the return of its citizens. Nagin has put the city’s current population at 225,000 -- from a pre-Katrina 450,000 -- and predicted it would rise to 300,000 in coming months.

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But many here stress that it is not just a matter of whether the city regains its population, but what they find when they get here.

“What are they coming back to?” asked Thomas.

“Once they come back, will there be enough schools, hospitals ... a city that is clean and safe ... more business opportunities?

“There is still a question mark on the welcome mat,” Thomas said.

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