A Report from New Orleans

I'm currently in New Orleans speaking at the Traditional Building Conference. It seems an unlikely place for a modernist, I know, but Historic Preservationism is finally starting to make the connection to sustainability. After all, it makes sense. Durability, reuse, preservation of history and culture all fall well within the purview of green building.

This is my first visit to New Orleans, and it has delightfully surprised me. Filled with a rich history and hidden charms, NOLA also offers some interesting lessons. I didn't quite know what to expect here over two years after Hurricane Katrina.


The damage by Hurricane Katrina was devastating, and evidence of it still remains today. Boarded up, wind damaged buildings appear randomly among otherwise undamaged neighborhoods. The difference seems to be the surrounding economy not being able to support repairing these abandoned structures. So they sit, alone, empty and reflecting a weakening of the overall economy. But these examples are only a handful of the real damage.

The subsequent flood was the real cause of the majority of the structural damage, and this ongoing economic damage. It is important to not blame the Hurricane. After all, it was the failure of man-made levies that created the flood. Mother Nature and wind didn't destroy New Orleans, the raging flood waters did. Over 80 percent of the city was flooded, some areas by as much as 15 feet. It all could have been averted, especially in light of the ever-prescient reports on the inadequacy of the levee system.

This failure by our government is the real tragedy. Had the Hurricane been the source of the damage, we could look upon New Orleans as we did when Hurricane Hugo hit Charleston, or Andrew hit Florida.

To the contrary, New Orleans is a living reminder of the mediocrity of our government. Instead of empathy, I feel anger; instead of sadness, I feel disbelief. In addition to the 1,464 people who lost their lives, this incompetence continues 26 months later. A series of scandals including no-bid government contracts, toxic temporary shelters and illicit distribution of recovery money continues to cloud the recovery efforts.

What's left is a shell of the former city. Over half of the downtown storefronts remain closed (* by my estimation, not by any hard data). The streets seem bare and uncrowded, especially along the most touristy areas.


The famed French Quarter was a wonderful surprise. Part of the original plan for the city, the French Quarter is located above sea level (five feet to be exact), allowing it to be spared from the flood. The original settlers had the foresight to locate the original neighborhoods above the line of the inevitable floods. The Industrial Revolution brought the engineering and technology of the levee system, allowing the low lying areas to be filled in. This blind faith in technology is reminds me of the story of Icarus, and dozens of other parables.

The Quarter was surprisingly genuine. To be honest, I expected something as phony as Pier 39 at Fisherman's Wharf, ignored by the locals and filled with gawking tourists buying t-shirts. The empty streets of the French Quarter show a rich history, wonderful lessons of urban scale and a beautiful local vernacular architecture*.

(* A more technical explanation: these older buildings typically consist of deep, wraparound balconies at the second and third floors. These balconies shade the interior and keep the thermal mass of the stone and brick walls cool. Large windows on all sides allow for ventilation and cross-breezes for more cooling. Wooden shutters shade the windows from direct sunlight when needed. These are textbook examples of using an appropriate strategy to design for a hot, humid climate.)

For the most part, the stately homes of both the Garden District and Jefferson Parish today seem undamaged. What is evident is a lack of activity on the streets. While most children were in school (hopefully), I still expected smaller kids playing in the neighborhood.


Within walking distance to the French Quarter was the Lower 9th Ward, a long-time poverty stricken area. It was perhaps hardest hit by the effects of the flood. The streets look shockingly unchanged from the images you saw just after the flood. Most of the homes are abandoned and uninhabitable. A majority are damaged beyond repair. The spray painted tags by the rescue teams sit as an eery reminder of the grim discoveries found inside. The number in the bottom of the X indicates the number of dead found inside.

The remaining residents were unfazed by our presence. Although I felt like an embarrassed voyeur who was trespassing on their tragedy, no one seemed to mind, much less notice. Either they are used to this new kind of tourist, or they simply assumed we're there to help. We stared in silence as we toured the streets, as the sheer amount of the damage is simply overwhelming.

But there are signs of hope. Throughout the city, and across social and economic neighborhoods, you'll find the locals slowly rebuilding their city. Bright and shiny pockets of hope lie scattered amid the ruins. Standing next to a rotting skeleton of a house you'll see a newly renovated one sporting a fresh coat of paint.

The biggest sense of hope comes from the locals themselves, all of whom give a new meaning to the term "Southern Hospitality." Without exaggeration, I can say that every single person with whom we came into contact was friendly, engaging, helpful, polite and just generally grateful of our presence there. Tourism is clearly struggling, and the people of New Orleans are resoundingly determined to change that. Without any sense of being obsequious, the residents are genuinely happy to see visitors. And the best part: it works. I found that I wanted to spend more money, infuse more into the economy. If you're looking for a place to take a trip, NOLA would be a wonderful choice. If you can't travel, order some of Sally's amazing pralines.


New Orleans has long been synonymous with good food, wonderful music and even the legendary corrupt government. The tragedy of the flood is now cemented into that and is inseparable from any experience with this wonderful place.