MacGregorSailors.com

I spent a few days last week in Baton Rouge setting up our temporary office, and then Friday we (myself, my partners Ellen and Phyllis, and her husband Robert, along with a few other family members) went into Lakeview (their upper-middle class neighborhood in New Orleans) for the first time to assess the damages. I've never seen anything like it.

Here are some photos:

http://www.michaelcaswell.com/lakeview

Now, of course, everything is relative. Compared to houses that did not flood at all, mine is a mess. But the 6 inches of water I got is NOTHING compared to these homes in Lakeview (not to mention the bulldozer effect the storm surge had on the MS Gulf Coast).

It was really heart wrenching to walk though these houses, especially the first one we stopped at. This was Phyllis & Robert's house. No, it's not a mansion, but it was a very nice home. While many people love their homes, this was especially the case with Phyllis. She's literally spent 20 years striving to make it perfect. It was well-kept, and it was very nicely decorated on the inside. They are very good friends of mine, and I can't imagine what they must be going through.

Getting in was easy... the door had already been kicked in by rescue workers. Unlike the comparatively gentle and shallow water the entered my house, the water in their house got almost to the ceiling, and tossed everything around haphazardly, leaving a terrible mess in its wake. By the way, those masks really do work... though they are rather uncomfortable and hard to breathe through, I didn't smell anything, but when I moved it a bit to scratch my nose, letting some unfiltered air in, the musty stench was indescribable.

One of the things that made this destruction especially painful was that they had received word just a day or two before from a friend (who had driven past the house) that the water had only gotten up to around the bottom of their first floor windows, meaning the water would have only been 2 or 3 feet inside the house. Phyllis was elated at this news, thinking that perhaps some of the things on the first floor would be ok. Sadly, this turned out not to be the case. The friend had indeed seen a waterline below the bottom of the windows, but he hadn't noticed the other waterlines that were much higher. So, they went from envisioning the worst, to hearing it wasn't so bad, then to seeing it really was that bad after all.

IMG_3160 is the start of the photos of Ellen's house (a side-by-side double, built more recently than Phyllis & Robert's house). Again, terrible devastation on the first floor. Her teenage daughter walked around the ruins, sobbing.

IMG_3203 is the beginning of the the photos of my dad's house. Though I had not planned to, I stopped here by myself after leaving Ellen's house. I was really not prepared for what I saw. His house is only a few blocks from the now-infamous 17th Street Canal (IMG_3201 is a view of his street, standing in front of his house, looking towards the canal... the house in the middle of the street is not supposed to be there). I found that the rescue people had cut through part of the iron security door. I peered in through this gap, and tried to comprehend what I saw... the place really was unrecognizable.

My dad had all sorts of antique stuff and old photos on the walls... it really was a "history of our family" display. Priceless old photos of long-deceased family members, irreplaceable heirlooms, and other items of sentimental value were submerged for weeks in some really disgusting water. Of course, my dad wishes he had brought at least some of this stuff with him when they evacuated, but like most people in the area, he never imagined something so catastrophic would happen, and expected to be back home within a few days.

Anyway, the back sliding glass door was shattered (there was a sofa resting on the ground outside the door, so presumably it smashed its way through). I went in back there first, collecting a few things off the walls and out of the thick, black sludge (which had the appearance and consistency of axle grease). Moving around the room was difficult and dangerous, due to the ceilings and insulation that had come down, and the furniture strewn about. I didn't even try to go in further, instead going back around to the front and squeezing my way through the front door. It was a similar scene in that room. As with the back living room, this front room was also very difficult to move around in, and I didn't even attempt to go further into the house.

I did manage to salvage some things... a few old photos that were still at least a little bit recognizable, a couple of pocket watches, some old irons and keys, an old handheld railroad lantern, and my grandmother's framed wedding dress.

Satisfied that I had saved all I could, it was time to leave. But I did stand there for a while and have a long last look around these rooms. This was my grandparent's house, and I have a lot of fond memories from my childhood there... it was just really hard to see in that condition.

The scope of this disaster is so difficult to comprehend. I mean, these are just a few of the families who have been devastated by the flood waters, and looking around these houses, the destruction is stunning. But multiply that times a few hundred thousand... my mind just can't register that level of misery.

--Mike

Not to mention one very soggy Triumph TR-6... sigh.

I am *very* sorry, Mike, particularly for your loss of so many family history things. We will continue to keep you, and all the victims, in our prayers.

mike wrote:I went in back there first, collecting a few things off the walls and out of the thick, black sludge (which had the appearance and consistency of axle grease). Moving around the room was difficult and dangerous, due to the ceilings and insulation that had come down, and the furniture strewn about.
--Mike

Thank you for sharing this with us. Your description makes me think of the magnitude of this destruction.

Does everything get bulldozed now? Where does it all the contaminated desbris end up? I wonder how well insurance will help cover the damages.

This is just heartbreaking, especially all the irreplaceable family treasures. In pic 3227 I saw some numbered albums - perhaps a collection of family photos assembled over many years. What a devastating loss to your family.

Over the years, Kevin's dad painstakingly collected vast amounts of information about the family. When it was time for Pop to move, that geneology treasure trove was at the top of Kevin's list of things to pack up securely. I can't imagine how your Dad must be taking this.

Thank you for sharing the photos. Our prayers go with you as you clean up and rebuild your life post-Katrina.

Mark Prouty wrote:Does everything get bulldozed now? Where does it all the contaminated desbris end up?

Those are questions that no one really knows the answer to right now. As for my friends Phyllis and Robert, Phyllis is standing firm that the house absolutely positively has to be bulldozed, while Robert says not to rule out the possibility of completely gutting the first floor down to the studs and rebuilding it. The thinking is that this would be less expensive than completely starting over (especially since the very nice bedroom/bathroom upstairs is fine). But would there be a leftover subtle smell that they'd never be able to get rid of? Is it even feasible to repair that house?

Personally, I'd tend to lean thinking that 2 weeks soaking in nasty water is too much to recover from, but I also agree that they shouldn't make a decision until they know the structural condition, level of toxic stuff in soil, cost of rebuilding the first floor vs. just starting over, etc.

If they decide to not try to save the house, they'll probably just leave the lot vacant for the time being... perhaps when the levees are improved substantially, they'll feel comfortable rebuilding. And if/when they rebuild, Phyllis wants to build in such a way that avoids this kind of loss in the future... she wants the first floor elevated 12 feet or so. This can be done in souch a way that it doesn't look goofy... instead of a house up on stilts, they build a ground-level floor that is just for storage, the "second floor" is actually the first floor of the living quarters, the "third floor" is the second floor, etc. Sounds smart to me.

If the go this route, and do it within (I think) 2 years, there is some extra insurance money available to them... ICC (Increased Cost of Compliance) coverage provided under standard flood insurance policies will give them an extra $30,000 to put towards rebuilding if they do it in such a way that puts it out of future flooding danger.

I wonder how well insurance will help cover the damages.

Fortunately, they have flood insurance. So does my dad (though he has no contents coverage). But they don't have enough to cover the complete loss of the house. This exact situation is echoed over and over with many of these homeowners... they purchased enough insurance to cover a bad flood (maybe 3 feet inside), but didn't anticipate a total loss via a flood. Keep in mind, most of these houses are elevated around 3 feet.

Even worse off are the countless people who have NO flood insurance. A lot of St. Bernard residents who live in areas that have never flooded before (and are not in a bad flood zone) were not required by their mortgage companies to have flood insurance. I can't even begin to comprehend what it must feel like to have a house that is a total loss, along with a $100K+ mortgage that I'm still responsible for. Likewise, many owners of the waterfront homes here in Slidell find themselves in the same situation... their houses are built up quite high from sea level, but not high enough to prevent flooding from a massive storm surge. And, while some of the newer houses in this area survived with only severe first floor damage, a lot of the slightly older homes were completely demolished by the storm.

Yes, these people SHOULD have bought flood insurance... for them, it would have been very inexpensive. But I guess I can understand the false sense of comfort that comes from having a house up on its own little hill, or from being told that your area "doesn't flood."

--Mike