Restaurants Get Ready to Reopen -- but for Whom?

About 2:30 Saturday afternoon, the neon advertisements on Bourbon Street flickered on for the first time in nearly three weeks. “Daiquiris & Cocktails,” suggested one sign. “Hot soft pretzels,” promised a second. “Miller Lite,” offered a third.

After all those days of darkness, Mike Gaidos could only marvel. “I’ll never take electricity for granted again,” he said, standing beneath a glowing red, white and blue sign for one of Larry Flynt’s four local nightclubs.

The French Quarter wasn’t supposed to get power for another week, but nothing in this city has been happening on schedule. Equipped with electricity, however, club and bar owners said they would take matters into their own hands from this point on.

Gaidos, the maintenance manager for the Flynt clubs, said one of them would reopen Monday. But the rest would have to wait until more “girls” came back to town, he said.

Saturday marked the first time since Katrina hit Aug. 29 that people were officially allowed back to certain dry areas. They were greeted at checkpoints by National Guard troops who handed them a lengthy list of warnings.

“Welcome home!” the flier said. Then came the warnings, starting with “You are entering at your own risk.” There is a 6 p.m. curfew. The sewage system is “compromised.” There are no traffic lights, operating gas pumps or hotel rooms. Soil and standing water may be contaminated. Oh, and watch out: Your home may collapse on you.

Coast Guard Vice Adm. Thad W. Allen, who took over the federal relief effort from former FEMA director Michael D. Brown, issued a statement advising returnees “to consider delaying their return until safer and more livable conditions are established.”

Maybe people actually listened. While the city showed more activity Saturday than it had earlier in the week, there was no groundswell of returnees. And those that showed up seemed to realize that nothing is going to be the way it was, not any time soon.

Reconstruction, even for the parts of the city that didn’t flood, promises to be a fitful, hesitant process. Some places, like the Flynt clubs, lack employees. Some, like the Dungeon, a Halloween bar, still don’t have electricity. The National Guard troops showed an avid interest in the strip clubs, but antique stores and high-end restaurants wouldn’t have any customers even if they opened. No one has potable water.

Glenn Adams stopped to get a tetanus shot before entering the city, something officials were also advising. Otherwise the trip was simple: He breezed down from Baton Rouge in about 70 minutes, possibly less time than it would have taken before Katrina.

The 51-year-old defense lawyer came to his office at the firm of Porteous, Hainkel & Johnson to retrieve boxes of files. Slightly damaged, the building had electricity and, just as important on a sweltering day, air conditioning.

Many law firms are relocating, but not Porteous, Hainkel. The firm’s partners have composed a newspaper ad, making it clear to their clients and other firms that they are committed to the city. Several of the partners plan to start work again in this office as soon as officials give their approval.

Not Adams. His house here survived the flood, but he has bought a place in Baton Rouge. His three children are enrolled in school there.

“If I didn’t have kids I’d be back right away,” the New Orleans native said. But he does, so maybe he will be in Baton Rouge for a year. Or longer. “I could see staying there,” he admitted. Lives can only be uprooted so many times.

A few blocks away, near the Riverwalk shopping mall, others were coming to the realization that they would have to slog through rebuilding. Jim and Cindy Besselman, proprietors of the 103-year-old Ernst Cafe, were scrubbing feces off the floor.

Katrina spared the bar, but the looters did not. They soiled the floor, stole cigarettes and money -- even breaking into the gumball machine for quarters -- and took the liquor. Food and water were spurned.

That could all be fixed. Of more immediate concern to the Besselmans was where their clientele would be coming from. In the old days, they stayed open until 7 a.m. as workers from the nearby Harrah’s casino stopped by after their shifts to unwind. Conventioneers rented the restaurant for parties.

But there won’t be any conventions for a long time. And the casino workers have fled -- as have most of the Ernst’s staff. “One bartender lost his house, the other enrolled in college,” Jim Besselman said.

Any recovery, Cindy Besselman said, “is going to take a while. But we’re optimistic, we’re survivors. And after we survive, we’ll prosper.” Starting Monday, they have a contract to feed lunch to construction workers.

David Fukutomi, Federal Emergency Management Agency infrastructure branch chief, said the restoration of New Orleans would be extremely tenuous until the water, electric and sewage systems were running. To check for damage in underground pipes and wells, the water must recede, and sewage pipes and water lines must be repaired. “When you have a systemwide shutdown, it’s going to be difficult,” he said.

FEMA estimated that about three-fourths of customers in damaged areas had power, but some buildings were too damaged to receive it. Electricity is key to running waste systems and providing drinkable water. “If we use the circus tent analogy, power is the large pole that holds up the tent,” he said.

Alex Patout’s Louisiana Restaurant was the one restaurant in the French Quarter to show signs of life, cooking red beans and rice outside on the sidewalk, campfire-style. Annie Lewis, a real estate agent, stopped for a glass of wine.

The fact that nearly all the houses and businesses in the quarter are still shuttered is misleading, she said.

“They’re inside, cleaning out their refrigerators,” she said. “Give them 24 hours, and you’ll see them on the street.”

But some are leaving for a second time. Roger and Trudy Miller packed up their car in the French Quarter.

The couple, who manage an estate, were going to Florida until December. “Until this town is up and running, there’s no point to being here,” Trudy Miller said. “Where are we going to eat, where are we going to get water?”

Streitfeld reported from New Orleans and Powers from Baton Rouge.