For an Island, a Good Turn

Ryan Walsh gave the sheriff’s deputies blocking the bridge to his island home a choice: “I’m either going to go in by car or by boat,” he recounted Saturday. “You make the decision.”

They let him drive, which was probably smart. Because the 20-year-old fishing guide was ready to make good on his promise on the day Hurricane Rita largely passed this barrier island by.

Packed into Walsh’s Ford pickup were a generator, 40 gallons of gasoline, 20 gallons of water, enough food for a month, a chain saw, a bottle of rum -- and a boat. “I was going to get back home on the island whether they let me or not,” he said. “We were all fearing looters.”

He didn’t need the boat, but he’ll need everything else, as Galveston struggles back to normal in the weeks ahead. Rita had threatened for days to slam straight into this small city on the Gulf Coast before taking a right turn and heading for the Texas-Louisiana border.

Worried city officials ordered a mandatory evacuation, predicting that much of the island would be destroyed. Worried residents largely complied, leaving Galveston to the wind and waves. But damage was minimal -- one building burned, another with a wall torn off, palm fronds lining the streets, signs awry.

And now the 50,000 or so residents who left in a hurry want to come back. Saturday morning city officials told them in no uncertain terms to stay away; by late afternoon, they offered a very tempered invitation home, starting at 6 a.m. today.

“To the citizens of Galveston who want to come back, remember, the services are very limited,” Mayor Lyda Ann Thomas said during a briefing on the city’s status. “It is hot. It is not a lot of fun here. There’s no ice....There’s no gas.

“This is your home, and we want you to come home,” she said, before pulling the welcome mat back just a bit. “Be careful on the way, and remember what you’ll face when you get home.”

Although Interstate 45 heading south from Houston to Galveston was empty for most of the day, a small line of cars appeared to be backed up at the blockade to the island’s main approach by late afternoon.

An estimated 65% of the city remains without power; a return to full electricity could take up to 10 days. City Hall will be closed until further notice, as will the courts. Schools will be closed until Thursday. Only one street seemed to have traffic lights. Firetrucks trolled the empty streets. The hospital complex is offering emergency care, but nothing else.

Beachfront restaurants like the Ocean Grill seafood restaurant, Murdoch’s Bath House and the Balinese Room perched on slender piers, apparently intact above a muddy, mean-looking Gulf of Mexico.

The gas stations and the stores are closed, the homes boarded up tight, plywood over some windows painted with brash messages and taunts. “Rita Is a Whore,” said one. Many sported the name Rita with the circle-and-slash international “No” symbol over it.

Alfred McCollough, 58, part owner of the Wizard, was relaxing outside of his downtown bar Saturday afternoon, sipping beer and chatting with friends. He was one of those who never left as the hurricane loomed.

The Wizard remained open until the lights went off around dusk Friday, and then McCollough hunkered down in his apartment with his 22-year-old cat Smokey, listening as debris clattered down the street.

He would have evacuated, he said, but Wednesday he forgot, and Thursday he overslept. “I thought it was 10 a.m.,” he said. “It was 4 p.m. It was too late for me, so I stayed.”

And on Saturday he was philosophical. He had enough food and water and beer for himself -- but not everybody else. The Wizard’s door may have been open, but the bar was not.

A tan sedan drove up, and an older woman stuck her head out the passenger side window, hopeful for something cold on a hot, humid afternoon.

“Got beer?” she hollered.

“No,” McCollough replied.

“Got ice?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Catch you later,” she said, waving.