[StBernard] Hard times in the Big Easy

Westley Annis westley at da-parish.com
Wed May 14 21:09:36 EDT 2008


Hard times in the Big Easy
Isaiah Washington | Posted May 14, 2008 11:36 AM
I have been walking the streets of New Orleans for four weeks and four days
now, and I have found numerous stories of courage and dignity of the people
who lived during and after Hurricane Katrina hit here.



Isaiah Washington is an actor who is currently in New Orleans to film the
new movie Patriots.


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Today is my final day of trying not to voice my observations on post
Hurricane Katrina New Orleans and the people I have met here. I guess the
long hours at Harrah's Black Jack tables and too many shots of Patrón can
not quiet the voices in my head of the people I have had the honor to meet
and listen to.

You see, I have been walking the streets of New Orleans for four weeks and
four days now. It all started with meeting and interviewing former John
Ehret High School basketball coach Brian Simmons. In our first meeting he
seemed to be staring right into my soul -- a look that not only disarmed me,
but strengthened me. Brian Simmons is a modern day hero. One of the reasons
the film Patriots is being done here. And I get the honor of portraying him
in the film. But his story isn't the only story of courage and dignity
displayed during and after Hurricane Katrina that I have heard here.

Beth Abadie and her friend "Pepsi" talked to me for 2 hours about how the
media did not document the pain and loss in the St. Bernard Parish,
Chalmette, St. Tamany Parish and Slidell. These women on any given Sunday
looked like good God-fearing white women that may have supported Laura Bush
and her husband at one point, but not anymore. Their cries of anger were of
how CNN reported on the Lower Ninth, but left out how they had to fight to
survive and fight their own police just to get back to their homes, pets and
missing family members in St. Bernard.

One St. Bernard woman told me that the insurance company she had been paying
refused to reimburse her because there was no "evidence" of her home to
determine if she had wind damage or water damage. She was outraged, because
all that was left of her home was the plumbing sticking out of the concrete
slab.

I looked at my arms and I had "chill bumps" all over them. I asked the woman
to please repeat to me what she just told me. I could not believe my ears.

I have heard stories from the "Chalmations" of Chalmette (wiggers). My
Chalmation brothers wanted to make it very clear that they would "throw
down" for me at my beck and call. I certainly wasn't going to argue with
them on Canal Street at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Love is love.

West Bank's "Thaddeus," a waiter at NOLA's (a restaurant) offered to
personally make me some crawfish after I responded to him with a perfectly
accented, "Ya' heard me!" His 6' 5" frame chuckled, and he told me he was
glad I wasn't coming in trying to "act like a celebrity or something." My
wife and I laughed and the food and service was down home impeccable!

I have walked and walked and talked and listened to about 75 hours of
conversations. All insightful and disturbing stories. None of which can be
told or covered in 750 words!
I have talked to Robert Green in the Lower Ninth Ward about the best way to
approach Forest Whitaker or me about his script ideas. I have been
embarrassed at a tour bus driver's stopping on Tchoupitoulas Street,
screaming my name and thanking me for being in New Orleans filming.

People from Uptown, Downtown, East Bank, Mid-City, Algiers Point, Lakeview,
Metairie, Jefferson Parish, Garden District, French Quarter, Teamsters,
Busboys, Prostitutes, Hustlers, W Hotel Bartenders, Undercover Security at
Harrah's and Orleans Parish Policemen have all poured their rage, love of
the city, confusion, distrust, suspicions of the city government and their
disappointment into my very soul, and I have loved and dreaded every minute
of it.

Their voices hold me and have carried me as I tried to walk home from
Tipitina's after four hours of unbelievable music from a local musician
named "Trombone Shorty." I was bopping along Tchoupitoulas at around 7 the
next morning smoking a cigar when I was cut off at a corner of the street.

"Mr. Washington?," a voice exclaimed.

I walked slowly towards the car, leaned in the window and said, "Who's
asking?"

The man and woman looked at each other and said, "Do you need a ride?"

I said, "How far am I from the W Hotel?"

They exclaimed, "Damn! You too far! Get in the car, we take you home. You
walkin' thew da hood man!!" I was sweating and had been walking for 30
minutes already. So I got in the car, signed an autograph and tipped them a
$100 bill. The couple on their way to work said, "No one is going to believe
this, can you sign this $100 bill?" But before her man could speak, I said,
"Nope, no one is going to believe you picked me up walking down
Tchoupitoulas Street at seven in the morning, but if you don't spend that
$100 dollars you're crazy!"

This is just the tip of the iceberg on the vibrancy and the indominatable
spirits of the people of New Orleans. When I was here last November with the
artist Mark Bradford to help raise $100,000 for the opening of
photographer's Keith Calhoun and Chandra McCormick's L9 Center for the Arts,
I had no idea that I would be coming back to New Orleans so soon.

I arrived here on April 9, 2008 and I am glad I am here. I am glad that the
people of New Orleans have embraced me with their hospitality. I am always
amazed at how everyone I meet tells me that I haven't had "real gumbo" until
I have had theirs! I thank God and I ask God everyday that I walk these
streets: Please allow me to get a smile, a laugh, a hug out of each and
every one I meet here. Only then, I will feel like I am truly being a
servant to the people and at the very least I will know that my spirit has
turned one crying voice into a hopeful one.

God bless the Big Easy.




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