Motivated

I have been through the Lower Ninth about a dozen times now. First to see what the Lower Ninth was, how big it is, and where the boundaries are. But by now, going into the Lower Ninth isn’t about information gathering it is truly visiting. Lately to art instillations and checking for a Mardi Gras Indians poster so we could attend Super Sunday. But it is hard to assess the neighborhood from my perspective, being something of a tourist and a resident at the same time – a long term visitor.

I’ve found that the people are what matter most to this city. Especially the people of the Lower Ninth Ward. Don’t get me wrong, every person is as important to their neighborhood and this city as a Lower Ninth resident, and I am not suggesting that the neighborhood of the is any more important than the others. But the Lower Ninth has considerably fewer permanent residents than it used to, and compared to most other neighborhoods in New Orleans. Thus its residents have a greater responsibility to uphold the neighborhood. Finding the importance of the residents helped me make a decision, one that is obviously clear. I need to talk to them.

Again, I drove through the Lower Ninth Ward, this time to the House of Dance and Feathers. A backyard historical center for the Mardi Gras Indians, the famous African American tradition of remarkable heritage and showmanship. As usual, I was paying a little less attention to the road and a little more to the neighborhood. A modest white home sits in front of the House of Dance and Feathers, and a familiar sign in the Lower Ninth “Roots run deep here” leans against the front yard fence. I was visiting this year’s Krew de Vue King and proprietor of the House of Dance and Feathers, Ronald Lewis, who has a considerable reputation in the Lower Ninth Ward. A former Mardi Gras Indian, president of the Big Nine Social and Pleasure Club, and lifelong resident of the Lower Ninth, Lewis has always had a lot vested in his neighborhood. Because of his involvement with CITYbuild, the reconstruction of the House of Dance and Feathers, and the repair of his home in 2006, he and his property have become a sort of flagship for the opportunity still offered in the Lower Ninth.

Lewis attributes much of the culture of the neighborhood beginning with his father’s generation. Explained to me as the “Blue Collar Riverfront,” his father, like many men in the Lower Ninth was a skilled laborer who worked at the wharf along the river. They worked hard and they earned their living the same way that steel mill workers did in Pennsylvania or auto makers in Detroit. At the same time, make homes to raise families. The mindset took hold generations ago in the Lower Ninth; work hard to support a family. “The ownership is significant to the mentality,” Ronald explains, “It keeps the community and strong families.” He adds, “Families are now in their third and fourth generations of ownership – it’s been the family home since 1946.” It was important to support a family with a house, and by owning it, it could be passed down to not only children, but grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Almost on cue, his granddaughter walks into the backyard and exclaims, “What you doin’?” He turns to look at her, and I lean forward to see where the voice came from. “Giving an interview.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yea I am, look.”

“Oh,” being content with me as proof, she turns around and goes back inside. Its fitting, because not only was he sitting there, explaining to me the importance of owning a home and supporting one’s family in the Lower Ninth, he was still doing it. In the same way that his father worked, Ronald worked for the New Orleans Regional Transit Authority, from what I gather mostly repairing the iconic streetcar rails. After thirty years he was able to retire before Katrina.

Our conversation shifted from the foundation of the Lower Ninth to the current situation in the Lower Ninth. I could see what was happening and I could read articles and features but I wanted to be able to understand it from Ronald’s perspective.

He mentions that post Katrina, everyone talks about the poor people, not the working class people of the Lower Ninth. He uses the fact that “There is no large public housing” in the area to explain. When I asked him how many people he thought owned their own homes he said, “Probably 65:35 - the 65 percent own their homes, not many people rent.” He, time and time again, emphasized that the ownership is what matters. Especially now, there is survival in ownership.

He also wishes that there was more help. “There’s no Lowe’s or Home Depot, where do we get drywall and nails and screws, that stuff,” Ronald says, “There should be a place where they can handout materials.” He described a warehouse where building materials would be kept and that the people of the neighborhood would be able to get these materials, with verification of ownership. Many are rebuilding their own homes, not hiring it out, and are getting little help. He also described the lack of sufficient aid by the government. Initially after the water receded While talking about the members of the community who have not come back, and me asking about the people who inherited their house and had no proper deed, he told me “They have to go through succession, home owners have to get a lawyer to clear the property.” It’s a difficult process for people to apply for finances and impossible if they cannot validate their ownership. More should be done to assist people and most of the processes should be altered in some ways. He compares the re-growth after the flood wall collapse and the tsunami, “There was instant rebuilding after the tsunami, here its delayed.”

None the less the spirit that began generations ago, lives today. “You hear the generators and the nail guns, the hammers – that’s the spirit of the neighborhood. The city too.” Many people, including professionals and officials, consider the reconstruction of the neighborhood mistake. The community is far from being corrected, but the right qualities are in this place.