Lorrie Beth and Larry's accounts of what happened to them during Hurricane Katrina and in the aftermath

Hurricane Katrina-Our Experiences by Larry Bradshaw, Lorrie Beth Slonsky

Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the Walgreen's store at the corner of Royal and Iberville streets remained locked. The dairy display case was clearly visible through the widows. It was now 48 hours without electricity, running water, plumbing. The milk, yogurt, and cheeses were beginning to spoil in the 90-degree heat. The owners and
managers had locked up the food, water, pampers, and prescriptions and fled the City. Outside Walgreen's windows, residents and tourists grew increasingly thirsty and hungry.

The much-promised federal, state and local aid never materialized and the windows at Walgreen's gave way to the looters. There was an alternative.  The cops could have broken one small window and distributed the nuts, fruit juices, and bottle water in an organized and systematic manner. But they did not. Instead they spent hours playing cat and mouse, temporarily chasing away the looters.

We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and arrived home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet to see any of the TV coverage or look at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that there were no video images or front-page pictures of European or affluent white tourists looting the Walgreen's in the French Quarter.

We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero" images of the National Guard, the troops and the police struggling to help the "victims" of the Hurricane. What you will not see, but what we witnessed, were the real heroes and sheroes of the hurricane relief effort: the working class of New Orleans. The maintenance workers who used a fork lift
to carry the sick and disabled. The engineers, who rigged, nurtured and kept the generators running. The electricians who improvised thick extension cords stretching over blocks to share the little electricity we had in order to free cars stuck on rooftop parking lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical ventilators and spent many hours on end manually
forcing air into the lungs of unconscious patients to keep them alive.  Doormen who rescued folks stuck in elevators.

Refinery workers who broke into boat yards, "stealing" boats to rescue their neighbors clinging to their roofs in flood waters. Mechanics who helped hot-wire any car that could be found to ferry people out of the City. And the food service workers who scoured the commercial kitchens improvising communal meals for hundreds of those stranded. Most of these
workers had lost their homes, and had not heard from members of their families, yet they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for the 20% of New Orleans that was not under water.

On Day 2, there were approximately 500 of us left in the hotels in the French Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference attendees like ourselves, and locals who had checked into hotels for safety and shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact with family and friends outside of New Orleans. We were repeatedly told that all sorts of
resources including the National Guard and scores of buses were pouring in to the City. The buses and the other resources must have been invisible because none of us had seen them.

We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our money and came up with $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us out of the City. Those who did not have the requisite $45.00 for a ticket were subsidized by those who did have extra money. We waited for 48 hours for the buses, spending the last 12 hours standing outside, sharing the limited water, food, and clothes we had. We created a priority boarding area for the sick, elderly and new born babies. We waited late into the night for the "imminent"arrival of the buses. The buses never arrived. We later learned that the minute the arrived at the City limits, they were commandeered by the military.

By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was dangerously abysmal. As the desperation and despair increased, street crime as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels turned us out and locked their doors, telling us that the "officials" told us to report to the convention center to wait for more buses. As we entered the center of
the City, we finally encountered the National Guard. The Guards told us we would not be allowed into the Superdome as the City's primary shelter had descended into a humanitarian and health hellhole. The guards further told us that the City's only other shelter, the Convention Center, was also descending into chaos and squalor and that the police were not allowing
anyone else in. Quite naturally, we asked, "If we can't go to the only 2 shelters in the City, what was our alternative?" The guards told us that that was our problem, and no they did not have extra water to give to us.  This would be the start of our numerous encounters with callous and hostile "law enforcement".

We walked to the police command center at Harrah's on Canal Street and were told the same thing, that we were on our own, and no they did not have water to give us. We now numbered several hundred. We held a mass meeting to decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside the police command post. We would be plainly visible to the media and would
constitute a highly visible embarrassment to the City officials. The police told us that we could not stay. Regardless, we began to settle in and set up camp. In short order, the police commander came across the street to address our group. He told us he had a solution: we should walk to the Pontchartrain Expressway and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge
where the police had buses lined up to take us out of the City. The crowd cheered and began to move. We called everyone back and explained to the commander that there had been lots of misinformation and wrong information and was he sure that there were buses waiting for us. The commander turned to the crowd and stated emphatically, "I swear to you that the buses are there."

We organized ourselves and the 200 of us set off for the bridge with great excitement and hope. As we marched past the convention center, many locals saw our determined and optimistic group and asked where we were headed. We
told them about the great news. Families immediately grabbed their few belongings and quickly our numbers doubled and then doubled again. Babies in strollers now joined us, people using crutches, elderly clasping walkers and others people in wheelchairs. We marched the 2-3 miles to the freeway and up the steep incline to the Bridge. It now began to pour down
rain, but it did not dampen our enthusiasm.

As we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line across the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to speak, they began firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd fleeing in various directions. As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the sheriffs in conversation.
We told them of our conversation with the police commander and of the commander's assurances. The sheriffs informed us there were no buses waiting. The commander had lied to us to get us to move.

We questioned why we couldn't cross the bridge anyway, especially as there was little traffic on the 6-lane highway. They responded that the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in their City. These were code words for if you are poor and black, you are not crossing the Mississippi River and you were not getting out of New Orleans.

Our small group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter from the rain under an overpass. We debated our options and in the end decided to build an encampment in the middle of the Ponchartrain Expressway on the center divide, between the O'Keefe and Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we would be visible to everyone, we would have some security being on an elevated freeway and we could wait and watch for the arrival of the yet to be seen buses.  All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make the same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, only to be turned
away. Some chased away with gunfire, others simply told no, others to be verbally berated and humiliated. Thousands of New Orleaners were prevented and prohibited from self-evacuating the City on foot.

Meanwhile, the only two City shelters sank further into squalor and disrepair. The only way across the bridge was by vehicle. We saw workers stealing trucks, buses, moving vans, semi-trucks and any car that could be hotwired. All were packed with people trying to escape the misery New Orleans had become.

Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water delivery truck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting! A mile or so down the freeway, an army truck lost a couple of pallets of C-rations on a tight turn. We ferried the food back to our camp in shopping carts. Now secure with the two necessities, food and water; cooperation, community,
and creativity flowered. We organized a clean up and hung garbage bags from the rebar poles. We made beds from wood pallets and cardboard. We designated a storm drain as the bathroom and the kids built an elaborate enclosure for privacy out of plastic, broken umbrellas, and other scraps.  We even organized a food recycling system where individuals could swap out parts of C-rations (applesauce for babies and candies for kids!).

This was a process we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina. When individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant looking out for yourself only. You had to do whatever it took to find water for your kids or food for your parents. When these basic needs were met, people began to look out for each other, working together and constructing a community.

If the relief organizations had saturated the City with food and water in the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation, the frustration and the ugliness would not have set in. Flush with the necessities, we offered food and water to passing families and individuals. Many decided to stay and join us. Our encampment grew to 80 or 90 people. From a woman with a battery
powered radio we learned that the media was talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief and news organizations saw us on their way into the City. Officials were being asked what they were going to do about all those families living up on the freeway? The officials responded they were going to take care of us. Some of us got a sinking feeling.  "Taking care of us" had an ominous tone to it.

Unfortunately, our sinking feeling (along with the sinking City) was correct. Just as dusk set in, a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out of his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, "Get off the fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived and used the wind from its blades to blow away our flimsy structures. As we retreated, the sheriff loaded up his truck with our food and water. Once again, at gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway. All the law enforcement agencies appeared threatened when we congregated or congealed into groups of 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims" they saw "mob" or "riot". We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay together" was impossible because the agencies would force us into small atomized groups.

In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we scattered once again. Reduced to a small group of 8 people, in the dark, we sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the freeway on Cilo Street. We were hiding from possible criminal elements but equally and definitely, we were hiding from the police and sheriffs with their martial law, curfew and shoot-to-kill policies.

The next days, our group of 8 walked most of the day, made contact with New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out by an urban search and rescue team. We were dropped off near the airport and managed to catch a ride with the National Guard. The two young guardsmen apologized for the limited response of the Louisiana guards. They
explained that a large section of their unit was in Iraq and that meant they were shorthanded and were unable to complete all the tasks they were assigned.

We arrived at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun. The airport had become another Superdome. We 8 were caught in a press of humanity as flights were delayed for several hours while George Bush landed briefly at the airport for a photo op. After being evacuated on a coast guard cargo plane, we arrived in San Antonio, Texas.

There the humiliation and dehumanization of the official relief effort continued. We were placed on buses and driven to a large field where we were forced to sit for hours and hours. Some of the buses did not have air-conditioners. In the dark, hundreds if us were forced to share two filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those who managed to make it out with
any possessions (often a few belongings in tattered plastic bags) we were subjected to two different dog-sniffing searches.

Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been confiscated at the airport because the rations set off the metal detectors. Yet, no food had been provided to the men, women, children, elderly, disabled as they sat for hours waiting to be "medically screened" to make sure we were not carrying any communicable diseases.

This official treatment was in sharp contrast to the warm, heart-felt reception given to us by the ordinary Texans. We saw one airline worker give her shoes to someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the street offered us money and toiletries with words of welcome. Throughout, the official relief effort was callous, inept, and racist. There was more suffering than need be. Lives were lost that did not need to be lost.

Lorrie Beth and Larry's responses to questions about their experience

September 8, 2005
Thanks for all the wonderful and warm words of support and comfort that folks have sent our way. It is very much appreciated.
Our apologies for the delay in responding. We lost our laptop (our only computer) while in New Orleans. We literally got out with the clothes on our back. Consequently, we have very intermittent access to the Internet on our friend's computers. We have been overwhelmed by the response: 700 plus emails, phone machine is full, etc.
As to people's questions and comments:
1. Someone wanted corroboration on the rented buses. We do not know the name of the bus company. Ronald Pincus, the vice-president of the Hotel Monteleone, found, booked, and fronted the money for the busses. By the way, we can not say enough good things about the Monteleone workers and about the vice-president. All went way beyond the call of duty and were simply incredible.
We have heard that there were several media reports about our commandeered buses. We had no electricity, therefore, no way to see or hear those reports, so we are unable to direct you to those links. However there were 500 of us waiting on those buses, so I expect others are sharing similar experiences.
On the question of the buses: We do not necessarily think that it was wrong for the military to commandeer our buses, if those buses were used to transport those in more need, such as the sick and injured inside the Superdome. Just because we had cash, does not mean we should get to buy our way out ahead of everyone else. But because there was little coordination and less communication by FEMA and the military, we do not know, and will presumably never know, to what use those buses were put.
It is interesting that Mr. Pincus was able to get on the phone and quickly find 10 buses to come to New Orleans, while FEMA took days to rustle up any buses. In our opinion, FEMA should have commandeered every bus within two days drive of New Orleans and used them to quickly ferry out those who were stranded throughout the Gulf states.
2. That leads into another question that was put to us; "If you had those kind of resources, why didn't you get the hell out before Katrina hit?" Those of us who did not make it out before Katrina hit came from three sources:
i. Those like ourselves who were visiting (tourists/conference attendees) who had return airline tickets and were unable to change our flights or had our flights cancelled. In our case, we kept calling Southwest Airlines every hour to try to get an earlier flight, without success. Southwest kept assuring us our scheduled flight (pre-Katrina) would go ahead, only to be cancelled at the very last minute.
ii. About half of our group were employees of the hotels who management begged or ordered to report to work to keep the hotels and the infrastructure running. To then turn around and blame those same workers for not getting out sooner seems unfair.
One example; we came across a young woman crying hysterically on the street. Once we calmed her, she was told us she was a 911 dispatcher who had been ordered to stay because she was an "essential service" worker. Two days after the hurricane, she was driven to the city center, dropped off near the convention center with no water, no toiletries, no nothing, and her bosses drove onto Baton Rouge.
iii. The remainders were locals and tourists who couldn't get their cars out of the downtown parking garages. New Orleans has scores of rooftop parking lots which use an elevator (requires electricity) to take the cars up. In anticipation of flooding, many people opted to put their cars in these roof top garages, only to find themselves stranded when the power went out.
3. Regarding corroboration: No, unfortunately, we did not have any video or audio tape recorder. We saw some individuals with video cameras, but most of their batteries had long since died. (By the way, we did write down most of the identifying number of Gretna Sheriff's patrol car that forced us out of our freeway encampment (D522 or D552).
We know that thousands of New Orleanians were prevented from crossing the same bridge out of the City and can corroborate that gut wrenching, heart ripping, depressing experience. That was an experience that no one can forget or forgive.
The same holds true for the long, tedious, dehumanizing "refugee processing" at Lackland Air Force Base. That treatment continues. On Monday, our neighbor received a call from a friend who had been airlifted to San Antonio who was undergoing similar "refugee processing", before entering the facility at Kelly USA. We certainly hope that the treatment inside the facility improved. We do not know one way or the other, as we never went inside (contrary to media reports).
4) You ask why the Sheriff's Deputy took our food and water. We do not know. Perhaps he thought he should remove it so we wouldn't return? Perhaps he is just an evil person? We do not know what was going on inside this individual's head as he screamed and cursed at us. But, you can be sure that the food and water did not go to waste. Someone got to eat those C-rations and drink that cool water. It was not us nor was it the tired, thirsty and hungry New Orleanians who wandered back and forth between the Superdome and the Convention Center looking for something to eat or drink or feed to their kids.
For the record, we do not have a dislike for sheriff's deputies. We both have very cordial relations with a number of San Francisco County Deputies and work quite well with all the time at the San Francisco General Hospital. The Deputies are in the same union as we, SEIU Local 790, and we collaborate well.
5) Regarding "c-rations". Yes they are technically called MRE (Meals Ready to Eat). We had never heard of that term until we encountered them spilled on the freeway. We did not think anyone would know what an MRE was and we grew up with the term, "c-rations", so we opted for that term in the article. By the way, MREs are actually delicious (there are vegetarian versions). We have heard that they can be ordered on line and last for 5 years. We strongly encourage anyone who lives in an earthquake or flood zone to consider buying a case.
6) Regarding Looting: Contrary to some media reports, we did not lead a gang of affluent European tourists to loot Walgreens. In hind sight, we wish we would have collected first aid supplies, and over the counter medicines from many of these stores to distribute to those in need.
7) A couple of folks charge us with being ideological in writing about our experience in New Orleans. That may be true if by ideological you mean:
 Human beings should be treated with dignity, respect, and humanity, or  People should not have their freedom of movement restricted purely on the basis of their skin color, or  Human beings should not be lied to by persons in positions of authority, herded around like rats, forced to live in sewage and filth and then shot at for trying to walk out of New Orleans.
But we wonder if it isn't our critics' ideology that is the problem here? You grew up believing that sheriffs don't behave as we have described, and that law enforcement officers don't steel food and water in a disaster setting, or shoot at hurricane survivors. You may also find it difficult to fathom that a law enforcement department openly and systematically discriminates against African Americans.
So when events like ours go against your preconceived ideas, you want to dismiss our experience, rather than change your ideas.
We can understand that our story is shocking. We do not know if we would have believed the story ourselves, if it hadn't happened to us. We guess that is why we wrote about our experiences in the first place. We were so shocked and bewildered and outraged and confused when we encountered this treatment and witnessed this brutal racism.
Whatever you think about what happened to us in New Orleans, we only hope that we can all work together to expose injustice, challenge racism, hold the Bush administration accountable for its actions and in-actions and most importantly collaborate to build a better world for all of us.
We witnessed some terrible horrors in New Orleans, but we also caught a glimpse of what is good and great in the human spirit.
Thank you,
Lorrie Beth and Larry