I found this plaque embedded in the bricks outside the Oil & Gas Building, on the corner of Common and Rampart in the CBD. It reads "One hundred years after Col. Drake [?] completed the nation's first successful oil well in Titusville, Pennsylvania, the New Orleans Oil Centennial Committee deposited historical documents here to commemorate the occasion."

A celebration of oil's first century, eh? Hope they enjoyed the party, 'cos according to some geologists, we are approaching the end of the "peak oil" era. Some estimate that global oil supplies will begin to decline in mid-century, and that by 2050 the decline in production rates -- from having used up this limited resource -- will be precipitous.

In a hundred years, if that plaque is still there, it might seem like more of a tombstone than a time-capsule.

[Apologies for the off-set photo cropping ... it couldn't be avoided.]

[This is a continuation of the author's series on New Orleans lessons, to commemorate both the 2nd anniversary of Hurricane Katrina as well as her 10th anniversary of living in New Orleans .]

N is for Neutral Ground

Wouldn't it be great if there was a world's neutral ground? People from all nations could go there to catch beads at Mardi Gras parades, have Sunday afternoon cookouts, and park their cars when the rain falls a little too hard. While the world's powers continue their endless warring, us regular folks could gather on the streetcar tracks and make fair-trade deals: one can of High Life for a Popeye's chicken breast. No glass allowed, friends, it's safety first out here.

How great would it be to see kids from all cultures fighting over a plush football tossed from a float? To sing drinking songs in every language? To hang out in a place where traffic's permanently stopped so that people can sit in their lawnchairs and shoot the shit?

This is my dream, dear readers, and it may never come true. Fortunately for us here in New Orleans, there's always a neutral ground, no matter how many battles life throws our way.

O is for Okra

I'd never given much thought to this hardly little vegetable until my neighbors planted it in spades this past spring. From its lowly spot on the table - rarely seen in its pure state, but hidden in gumbo or fried beyond recognition - I never would have imagined that it came from a plant that towers above my head and blooms such exquisite flowers.

If you only knew okra from its restaurant incarnations, you'd never guess that it grows so fast that if you don't pick daily, those stinkers will end up as long as your forearm. Sadly, they're too tough to eat at that length, but their long, tapered shape remind me of witch's fingers. And voila: another Halloween costume is born. This year, keep on the lookout for the lady wearing a dried-okra skirt!

Houses in the Lower 9th Ward aren't considered the priciest or most luxurious homes in the area, but they still have a lot of character. Older houses built by skilled craftsmen of an earlier time benefited from numerous decorative touches that made a house unique. The cornice work, the under-eave brackets, everything was done to make the house stand out.

In the hidden corners of the Holy Cross neighborhood, it's still easy to find these distinctive touches, but after Katrina architectural thieves struck the city in force, ripping out valuable features and rare wood details that gave many homes their charm. Most of these houses survived at least two floods -- Hurricane Betsy in 1965, and, of course, Katrina forty years later -- but it was greed that caused the owners of these homes such headaches.

Here in the photo is the front eave over a house near Jackson Barracks. You can see the discolored spot where the finely detailed brackets used to be, and the hole where there used to be a metal vent cover. The owner of this home replaced the missing parts with cut plywood, but it might be a while before he or she finds a craftsman up to the task of replicating the stolen goods.

Perhaps New Orleans should be referred to as a city of the undead rather than housing cities of the dead (the cemeteries). I was trying to dredge up old articles from the New York Times responding to the horrors of New Orleans when I came across this article. The writer was commenting on President Bush's speech from three months after the storm.

Bush had said, at the time, the city would not be forgotten. That he--and the government--was paying attention. The author of the piece pleaded with those officials to do something or the city would die. And maybe it has.

It's been a long, slow death for New Orleans. It's been the kind of death staged melodramatically on the silver screen. Even if one counts up all the money and hard work floating around it hasn't amounted to much. Tourism is still down. The people who made up the city, who gave it its life blood, are gone or going, in the process of draining the city of its life. They ooze out of it like blood through an open wound.

New Orleans has been forgotten. New Orleans is dying. And it's going to take far more than another President to patch up her wounds. What strikes me most about the article is that it's basically saying the same thing we're all going on about now, two years later.

One would think in that amount of time--which is a long time, in many ways--something would have been accomplished other than increasing crime and flushing the economy down the toilet.

Although it seems like most of the rest of the country is more preoccupied with the scandals of our celebrity starlets, the New York Times has kept an ongoing, if quiet conversation with its readers about the devastation of New Orleans and the recovery efforts since the hurricane.

In honor of Hurricane Katrina's two year anniversary the Times is offering anyone who's interested a look at New Orleans now by parish. The site, located here, is interactive, which makes the reporting seem more "of the moment."

Some parishes have audio components and others have video rather than just words, words, words on a page. I hate to say it but anything in print (including these blogs!) barely scratches the surface of what is STILL going on in New Orleans as her fate hangs in the balance.

If nothing else, maybe a few folks who see this interactive feature will realize once and for all just how big Nola is, and that it's more than just the French Quarter.

Since I don't live in Nola I'm clearly no judge as to the accuracy of the reporting in the Times piece. Take a look and let me know what you think.

This weekend's Rising Tide 2 conference included one presentation that was worth seeing and listening to a second time (or a first if you didn't make it). The current president of the Louisiana chapter of the American Society of Civil Engineers gave an unofficial presentation on his employer's work to revamp our levee system. Tim of Tim's Nameless Blog works for the Army Corps of Engineers and was more than willing to give us an insider's perspective of what Katrina was and how the Corps in fulfilling a congressional mandate to repair and update our levee system to 1% flood strength.

Wait, you may be wondering what that 1% flood strength is. You see the strength of a levee system is determined by the amount of water it can hold and the type of storm is can take. In this case our levees need to take a 100 year storm event or a 1% storm. A 100 year event doesn't occur only once a hundred years instead there is a 1 percent chance of it happening every year no matter whether one happened recently or not (see the video for a better explanation).

Tim says the levee repair will make a major difference in Gentilly and Chalmette but not much in Kenner. He also encourages us to push for levees more like the ones in the Netherlands. The Dutch are ready for a 10,000 year storm and even protect their least important land against a 1,200 year storm. But that is cause most of the country could be under water at anytime so they actually realize the importance of flood protection. We have yet to convince the country that we are that important, although you would think our status as a major port city and oil producer and gas refiner and historic city would help, but I guess not (yet).

See the full six part presentation as YouTube videos on the First Draft blog.

Image via my Flickr feed

What's going on here? Why am I posting so much? Today, in honor of Katrina I am attempting another 24 hour 24 post blogathon.

This is a continuation of the author's series on New Orleans lessons, to commemorate both her 10th anniversary of living in New Orleans as well as the 2nd anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.]

J is for Jasmine

Here's to the scent that aroused a musical revolution, waftting out from behind the ears and knees of the night-women. Was it this flower's perfume, so associated with dingy rooms where holy prostitutes made their living and where musicians birthed the sound called jazz, that inspired the name of this rebellious, heathen music? No one knows for sure.

But I can tell you true that in the deep spring of New Orleans, this flower releases her spicy-sweet smell to float across both courtyard gardens and junk-strewn streets. She'll grow in the most exclusive collections and cover rusty chain-link with her dainty white flowers and deep green leaves. Iin the summer, her sister takes over, with her evening blooms and her sticky-sweet fragrance scenting the humid night air. Her presence defines the decadence of this city, a land covered in flowers and perpetually drunk on the smell of sweet love-sweat and the dance of improvised music.

My friend Kathy of Between Piety & Desire has been helping to organize an event which I think could be really critical in helping to revitalize an important but run-down public space.

Friday on the Roch is a new community event in the St. Claude Avenue neighborhood which will happen monthly beginning this Friday, August 24th. The old St. Roch Market was chosen as the location because of its cultural and historical significance. This city-owned building is well over 100 years old and was renovated back in the 1930s as part of a WPA project. It was once the site of a public marketplace, but it sustained a lot of damage during Katrina and has sat empty in disrepair ever since. A couple of years ago I lived only blocks from the St. Roch Market, and I've often thought what a cool building this is and wished that someone would do something to bring this place back to life. I'm so glad that plans are now in the works to do just that.

Friday on the Roch will be held from 5pm-9pm on the neutral ground behind St. Roch Market. There will be live musical performances by Sunpie Barnes and the Louisiana Sunspots, and the Black Notes, a jazz sextet from NOCCA. There will also be plenty of food & drink (pralines, fresh seafood, baked goods, po-boys, sno-balls...) as well as arts & crafts vendors. Kathy told me that the hope is for this event to join up with some of the other farmers markets that take place nearby and possibly to make this a weekly event in the future. If all goes well, maybe one day the people organizing this event will be able to tackle leasing and running the St. Roch Market itself and restore it to its former glory as a true community marketplace.

I can't wait to check out Friday on the Roch; I'm definitely going to have to stop by after work. I'm really hoping it takes off; I think it could be a major step in the right direction for the neighborhood, as well as the city.

There's something that I'd been wondering about recently, and after seeing a K-Ville commercial last night, it really made me curious. In one of the new commercials, they show a quick scene of some street performers dancing in Jackson Square. I spend a fair amount of time in the Quarter, and often have to walk through Jackson Square, usually at least once or twice a week. I've seen the musicians come back to play (there's usually at least someone out there performing, if not a small brass band), and I know many of the artists and tarot readers are back in the square. I think I've even seen the dancers who sometimes perform on the steps across Decatur Street from the cathedral, near Cafe du Monde... those teams of dancers who will gather a large group of tourists to sit on the steps and watch their performance. But to my recollection, I haven't seen any of the young kids tap dancing around the Quarter since Katrina. Someone tell me that I'm wrong... tell me that you've seen them performing along Decatur Street, because as far as I can tell this could very well be a tradition lost (at least temporarily) to Katrina.

Another lost Jackson Square tradition? Once in my work at the Louisiana State Museum, I came across an old photo of an organ-grinder monkey that used to perform in the square -- I want to say that the photo was taken sometime in the 40s or 50s. Can't say that I've ever seen a monkey in Jackson Square, so that is one tradition that is long gone. The picture of this money-grubbing pooch was taken in Jackson Square pre-Katrina too, by boxchain. Anyone seen this pup around lately?

I just finished "Dr. Mary's Monkey," a book by Edward T. Haslam reviewed in last week's Gambit Weekly about the links between the unsolved murder of a famed cancer scientist in July of 1964 (on the 21st, as it happened; exactly 43 years ago yesterday), dangerous top-secret virus research, Lee Harvey Oswald, and the conspiracies to kill Castro (unsuccessful) and Kennedy (successful).

For a better review than I can give here, check out the Gambit's article. I'll avoid too much narration here, but in brief, the tale is that, in the '50s, millions of schoolchildren were vaccinated against polio; the vaccine used for this massive public health initiative was tainted with monkey viruses, some of which caused cancer in laboratory animals; doctors at the newly-formed Tulane hospital were recruited to discover a cure for the accidentally-induced cancers; meanwhile, powerful forces were trying to find a way to assassinate Fidel Castro by using these fatal viruses, and in the course of this, famous New Orleans doctor Mary Sherman was found murdered and partially incinerated in her apartment. Lee Harvey Oswald (photo) was drawn into the secret laboratory where research on mice was done; he later fell from this position and wound up in Dallas, 1964, and the rest is history (at least, that's one side of the story).

The book is as much a roller-coaster ride as you'd expect. Published by a conspiracy-minded publishing house in Oregon, the book has all the sloppy argumentation you'd expect from any conspiracy rant, and the author engages in the time honored conspiracist tradition of constructing a fragile framework of facts, interlinked by a web of assumptions that range from the conceivable to the extreme, and presenting this framework as a grand unified theory of truth.

That's not to say that, in Mr. Haslam's case, his work is little more than a simmering cauldron of tantalizing mysteries and bizarre serendipity. His research is good, persisent if nothing else, and it should be easy enough to fact check much of what he says. At times, though, the research gives way to speculation; speculation that is later elevated to assumption, and from there on to truth.

If his facts are all correct, there is no need for such murky speculations. It's not necessary to embellish or downplay weaknesses in the story. It's pretty compelling, and it reads well, and even if what Haslam believes to be true is not, there is still a great mystery behind the odd characters and wierd interactions that went on behind closed doors here, over forty years ago.

I love good, seemingly air-tight conspiracy theories. But just because I like such theories doesn't mean I invest myself in their truth or falsity. Conspiracy theorists are notorious for discounting criticisms of their work as part of the conspiracy itself (this is something that separates them from historians, whose work is generally ignored but who can afford to be a little more rigorous in addressing their critics). Personally, even though the writing style is overly familiar and a bit unsophisticated, I recommend reading the book. I'd hate for the tale to be true, but if it's even if it's exaggerated, that still leaves an unsolved murder, a problematic polio virus, a sudden epidemic of cancers (not to mention AIDS/HIV), and odd connections between Lee Harvey Oswald, virus research, and Dr. Alton Ochsner. Keep a grain of salt close at hand, though.

Well, maybe a shaker of salt...

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Yesterday I was lookimg at some pictures of New Orleans and missing the city. As the heat and humidity settle in for their annual visit, people are starting to wonder if I am truly crazy after all for missing New Orleans and wanting to go down there.

The heat, they say, and the crime! Why don't you go someplace safe and cool? Like where? North Dakota? Not that I have anything against North Dakota, but you know what I am saying.

I am no fair weather friend to New Orleans. These days especially it is harder than ever to call myself a friend, to retain my love and longing for the city. Like many of her residents, I could easily abandon Nola and be totally justified in doing so. After all, if she can't keep her own, why should I work so hard for her to keep me?

To add to Kelly's blog about the Francophilian festivities tomorrow, the Faubourg St. John Merchants Association will also be celebrating Bastille Day tomorrow evening. Head over to the 3100 block of Ponce deLeon (between Liuzza's By the Track and Esplanade Avenue) between 5 and 9 pm for this free event which will include gustatory delights, plenty of French wine, kids' activities, and music by Va Va Voom, which I believe is French for "Yee-haw!!"

Rumor has it that people will be playing Petanque, a French lawn game similar to the Italian bocce ball, where one tries to throw a ball at another ball. The sort of sport one enjoys in the summertime, outdoors, with glass of wine in hand.

I've been thinking about France quite a bit after seeing Michael Moore's film Sicko, which does quite a bit of romanticizing about France, including scenes where he speaks to American ex-pats in Paris who literally gush about their new home. He slathers the romance on pretty thick, with a montage scene of lovers cooing to each other in a French park, but does so to combat some of our recent Francophobia best exemplified by the term "Freedom Fries." (Those silly French, so foolish as to believe that war in Iraq was - gasp - a bad idea!)

One point Moore made about the French, who daily suffer through the afflictions of universal health care, a 35-hour work week and cheap wine, is that the government serves the people because of the storming of the Bastille. With that event, the French people proved that the people are a very powerful force, to be feared and respected by their leaders. To this day, the French are fond of protesting and reminding their elected leaders of who's really in charge.

In that spirit, let's remember that Bastille Day is about revolution, and I can't think of a better place for it than right here in the NO. Not only do we have our French heritage to bolster the revolutionary spirit, but frankly, the city is still in need of revolutionary changes. We've already got a Reign of Terror here in the States, why not supplement it with revolution?

Personally, I think we should go with Anne Lamott's plan for revolution, which proposes more kindness and libraries. You can read her ideas at this link. So if you do come on out to Bayou St. John on Saturday, be sure to leave your cellphones at home and bring some fruit to share!

Finally, good news from the web of Bill Jefferson scandals: Senator David Vitter has been linked to hookers.

Of course, he had a reputation for defending family values. In American politics, if your scandal doesn't carry a heavy aroma of irony and hypocrisy, you may as well stay clean. It's really no big deal, his fornicating, and the real shame is that prostitution is illegal, not that he got caught. I never complain when Republicans fall to their own Shakespearean flaws, but it would be a waste of time to dwell overlong on it.

For a time, prostitution was legal in New Orleans. Storyville, the fabled birthplace of jazz, was the legal red-light district that operated from 1898 to 1917. The madam who recently revealed that Vitter visited her Canal Street brothel carries on a time-honored tradition of New Orleans ladies selling their bodies for men's temporary use.

If a man wants to screw up his marriage, that's his business. I find it difficult to be morally outraged by this run-of-the-mill "scandal," and I hope it fades quickly from the front pages. The region has many more important things to address than a Senator's philandering.

According to an article in the entertainment section (of all places) on nola.com, my source for all things New Orleanian, the owner of Snug Harbor, George Brumat has died. He was a young 63, and died of an apparent heart attack.

Brumat also was one of the former owners of perennial favorite beer joint Port of Call. I never had occasion to visit Port of Call, to my knowledge anyway, but I did get a chance last August to finally hit Snug Harbor. After years of wandering down Frenchman Street looking for interesting things to do outside of the French Quarter and looking in its windows my husband and I decided to finally take the plunge.

We ended up using the bathroom and then leaving after speaking with some very nice hostesses about the standing room only in the small performance area. I was pregnant at the time and not much for standing--or smoking, which is still allowed--so we ended up at The Spotted Cat, where the Jazz Vipers rocked (er, jazzed) my socks off.

Snug Harbor was a nice establishment, though, and hearing of Mr. Brumat's death makes me all the more wish I'd stayed that night to see what was what. Names like Charmaine Neville and various Maraslises always grazed the roster for the month, but never once did I give in to my curiosity and attend what is considered by some to be THE place to see jazz acts in New Orleans.

Mr. Brumat's passing only goes to show that you should just do whatever it is now or forget about it. Like the way things were before the Big K, that time will pass and it will be too late.

Mr. Brumat seemed to have made jazz appreciation--especially modern jazz--his life's work. The man had quite a few tricks up his sleeve to accomplish his goals, too. He made it possible for music students to get in for free so they could observe professionals in an appropriate setting for learning purposes. He reopened Snug Harbor as soon as he was able after Hurricane Katrina and took an economic loss just to give musicians a place to play and locals a place to go where they could forget about the chaos.

To me, that is more than dedication. It is the way of life for many folks in the Crescent City. You just don't find people like that anymore, and you generally don't find them outside of places like Nola.

Thus, Nola has lost another of her champions. As the comments on the article note, Mr. Brumat will be mourned and he will be missed. I hope his legacy--of kindness and care for building the culture and the morale around town--lives on through some other willing participant who will take over duties at Snug Harbor and keep it safe and sound until I get myself back down to New Orleans.

Any takers out there?

You probably heard about Louisiana Senator and local hardcore rightwinger David Vitter's phone number showing up in the call log of a supposed DC madam yesterday. He admitted (through a spokesman) that he had 'sinned' and had been forgiven by his wife and hoped to be forgiven by Christ. What the articles on this are neglecting to mention is... this is not the first time he has been found out as not the family candidate. Hypocrite Vitter was accused of an extramarital affair in 1999 with a New Orleans prostitute, Wendy Cortez. Wendy Cortez contacted former Governor Treen's office during the 2002 campaign for governor that year, because she was unhappy he was claiming to be a family values candidate and cheating on his wife with her. The whole thing can back to almost hurt Vitter before he won his Senate seat in 2004 (around the time, I can only assume, he may have been visiting the DC madam). Salon.com did a huge write up on this at the time (via Your Right Hand Thief). They found out about this from Louisiana Weekly, whose September 9, 2002 article helped force Vitter to leave the race for governor at the time. He said the race was putting a strain on his marriage and denied the hooker allegations, but now we can only assume that the hooker who went to the papers then was telling the truth and his cheating was the real problem. Now you need to ask yourself, can we trust this man? (Silas Lee thinks we might forgive and forget) Is Vitter really good for Louisiana? I guess his support of Guiliani for president makes more sense now too, considering the former NYC mayor's marital history and our new knowledge of Vitter's. Too bad Wendy Vitter (who I feel really bad for, if anyone should have left their husband by now, its her) never had enough courage to do what she claimed she would do if she found him cheating: "I'm a lot more like Lorena Bobbitt than Hillary. If he does something like that, I'm walking away with one thing, and it's not alimony, trust me."

picture edit of a Vitter meeting with the supremely qualified Harriet Miers