Drizzt
Member
City of misery, guns & despair
BY TAMER EL-GHOBASHY
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER
NEW ORLEANS - I went looking for the Big Easy yesterday. I found Dodge City instead. Looters ran wild, some desperate for food and water, others just taking advantage of a chance at free cigarettes and beer.
In the Carrollton neighborhood, two armed men - self-appointed sheriffs in a white pickup - confronted them. Spotting thieves who had commandeered a forklift and smashed into a Rite Aid store, the two men fired above the looters' heads and ran them off.
A man emerged pulling a little wagon stacked with Pampers, food, water and soda. He screamed at the men with the guns.
"Who are y'all? Who are you to stop us?"
"I'm an American citizen," was the reply. "Take your food and go."
"I need these things," the looter told me. "I can't afford to get out of here. But I have to feed my family.
"Look at what I have," he said. "These aren't luxuries."
Not far away, at Cooter Brown's Bar & Grill, the weary owner stood sentry with a pal to keep the looters at bay. He had a .357 magnum, a 9-mm. handgun, a 12-gauge shotgun and no hesitation about using any of them.
"The cops are busy as it is. If more citizens took security and matters into their own hands, we won't be in this situation," said owner Art DePodesta, 30, as he warily scanned the street.
We drove on through flooded and ravaged streets, where large groups of people walked in knee-high water, some carrying their only remaining possessions above their heads. All around New Orleans there were people walking the streets - some with a destination, others with nowhere to go.
I began my day about 6 a.m. in the parking lot of a Waffle House in Baton Rouge, La. Daily News photographer Mike Appleton and I had slept in the car. There isn't a hotel room to be found from Texas to Arkansas.
We gassed up the SUV, fueled ourselves with coffee and headed for New Orleans. Police at a checkpoint turned us back - no media allowed, they said - so we pulled out the map, figured out some back roads with help from the locals, and shadowed the mighty Mississippi on our way into town.
When we first entered New Orleans, we found ourselves in neighborhoods that hadn't fared too badly. There was damage but not total destruction. Downed trees and power lines blocked some streets, but the water was mostly gone.
As we drove on, we hit the neighborhoods that Katrina had left in ruins. Desperate people flagged us down and begged for rides - to the hospital, to search for loved ones, or, preferably, to get them out of town.
Since we're living out of our car, it is jammed with our stuff and there's little room. We had to turn them down.
But we were wary, too.
The radio news had numerous reports of carjackings all over town. In a city where people are desperate to get out, wheels are a hot commodity. We wanted to keep moving.
We made our way to the Superdome and found the most shocking scene I encountered in New Orleans. The giant stadium was opened up as a place of refuge from the storm.
Yesterday, it was a pit of misery and despair for the tens of thousands crammed in there.
"You don't want to come in here," a National Guardsman told us. "It's a war zone."
He wasn't kidding.
When we made our way inside, the first thing that hit me was the smell.
Human waste.
Body odor.
Desperation.
Fear.
Thousands of children milled about. Thousands of elderly huddled in stadium seats. Everybody anxious. Everybody afraid.
A group of men pried open a Coke machine and then fights broke out over the soda. A few Guardsmen moved in, locked and loaded. At the sight of the rifles, the fighting ended.
"People are boiling over," another Guardsman said.
The rumor mill was off the hook. Four rapes had occurred, people told me. A baby had died.
Officials denied that any baby had died. But they dodged questions about rapes, saying they couldn't confirm or deny the reports.
"We don't feel safe. I feel really scared. If my husband wasn't here, I don't know how I'd deal with it," said Robin White Morton, 45.
"The conditions are deplorable. The bathrooms have backed up and people are very uncomfortable and agitated. We are waiting for any word where we'll be moved to next, and when," she said.
The answer came as the day went on: A two-day bus convoy will ferry 25,000 refugees from here to the Astrodome in Houston.
Down on the field, some boys tossed a football around. I enjoyed watching them play and I thought about how resilient kids are, how they always find a way to make the best of it.
"I always thought I'd be playing football in this place, but not like this," a 12-year-old told me.
He made me smile, and I realized it was the first time all day I'd done that.
We left the Superdome and headed out of town. There's no cell phone service or Internet access, and we had to file our pictures and story.
We left behind the City of New Orleans - home of Mardi Gras and one of the best party towns in the world.
I can tell you this much: The party's over.
http://nydailynews.com/front/story/342473p-292368c.html
BY TAMER EL-GHOBASHY
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER
NEW ORLEANS - I went looking for the Big Easy yesterday. I found Dodge City instead. Looters ran wild, some desperate for food and water, others just taking advantage of a chance at free cigarettes and beer.
In the Carrollton neighborhood, two armed men - self-appointed sheriffs in a white pickup - confronted them. Spotting thieves who had commandeered a forklift and smashed into a Rite Aid store, the two men fired above the looters' heads and ran them off.
A man emerged pulling a little wagon stacked with Pampers, food, water and soda. He screamed at the men with the guns.
"Who are y'all? Who are you to stop us?"
"I'm an American citizen," was the reply. "Take your food and go."
"I need these things," the looter told me. "I can't afford to get out of here. But I have to feed my family.
"Look at what I have," he said. "These aren't luxuries."
Not far away, at Cooter Brown's Bar & Grill, the weary owner stood sentry with a pal to keep the looters at bay. He had a .357 magnum, a 9-mm. handgun, a 12-gauge shotgun and no hesitation about using any of them.
"The cops are busy as it is. If more citizens took security and matters into their own hands, we won't be in this situation," said owner Art DePodesta, 30, as he warily scanned the street.
We drove on through flooded and ravaged streets, where large groups of people walked in knee-high water, some carrying their only remaining possessions above their heads. All around New Orleans there were people walking the streets - some with a destination, others with nowhere to go.
I began my day about 6 a.m. in the parking lot of a Waffle House in Baton Rouge, La. Daily News photographer Mike Appleton and I had slept in the car. There isn't a hotel room to be found from Texas to Arkansas.
We gassed up the SUV, fueled ourselves with coffee and headed for New Orleans. Police at a checkpoint turned us back - no media allowed, they said - so we pulled out the map, figured out some back roads with help from the locals, and shadowed the mighty Mississippi on our way into town.
When we first entered New Orleans, we found ourselves in neighborhoods that hadn't fared too badly. There was damage but not total destruction. Downed trees and power lines blocked some streets, but the water was mostly gone.
As we drove on, we hit the neighborhoods that Katrina had left in ruins. Desperate people flagged us down and begged for rides - to the hospital, to search for loved ones, or, preferably, to get them out of town.
Since we're living out of our car, it is jammed with our stuff and there's little room. We had to turn them down.
But we were wary, too.
The radio news had numerous reports of carjackings all over town. In a city where people are desperate to get out, wheels are a hot commodity. We wanted to keep moving.
We made our way to the Superdome and found the most shocking scene I encountered in New Orleans. The giant stadium was opened up as a place of refuge from the storm.
Yesterday, it was a pit of misery and despair for the tens of thousands crammed in there.
"You don't want to come in here," a National Guardsman told us. "It's a war zone."
He wasn't kidding.
When we made our way inside, the first thing that hit me was the smell.
Human waste.
Body odor.
Desperation.
Fear.
Thousands of children milled about. Thousands of elderly huddled in stadium seats. Everybody anxious. Everybody afraid.
A group of men pried open a Coke machine and then fights broke out over the soda. A few Guardsmen moved in, locked and loaded. At the sight of the rifles, the fighting ended.
"People are boiling over," another Guardsman said.
The rumor mill was off the hook. Four rapes had occurred, people told me. A baby had died.
Officials denied that any baby had died. But they dodged questions about rapes, saying they couldn't confirm or deny the reports.
"We don't feel safe. I feel really scared. If my husband wasn't here, I don't know how I'd deal with it," said Robin White Morton, 45.
"The conditions are deplorable. The bathrooms have backed up and people are very uncomfortable and agitated. We are waiting for any word where we'll be moved to next, and when," she said.
The answer came as the day went on: A two-day bus convoy will ferry 25,000 refugees from here to the Astrodome in Houston.
Down on the field, some boys tossed a football around. I enjoyed watching them play and I thought about how resilient kids are, how they always find a way to make the best of it.
"I always thought I'd be playing football in this place, but not like this," a 12-year-old told me.
He made me smile, and I realized it was the first time all day I'd done that.
We left the Superdome and headed out of town. There's no cell phone service or Internet access, and we had to file our pictures and story.
We left behind the City of New Orleans - home of Mardi Gras and one of the best party towns in the world.
I can tell you this much: The party's over.
http://nydailynews.com/front/story/342473p-292368c.html
