Knee-deep in editing with our executive producer Tom who has joined us to make some decisions about the final version of our documentary. It's an intense time. Fortuitously, after last night's late session, we received an e-mail from our Texas retail guru Dan Houston about how independent business and Katrina go hand-in-hand. So with Dan's permission, we're posting his thoughts on this.
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Dear Heather and Hanson,
I trust your monumental editing task has distracted you from the monumental disaster in New Orleans. On this end, despite being quite busy this week, Katrina has occupied much of my attention, waiting for word from friends (mostly checked in now).
I lived in New Orleans for five years until, like many, I reluctantly migrated to places with greater economic opportunity. Since starting Civic Economics and freeing myself from any particular location requirements, I’ve intended to move back when finances allowed. An issue now for another year.
What made me think to write to y’all now is the endless parade of pictures from the city. Once you think to look, you’ll see, just beyond the water and the homes, that nearly every photo depicts a mom and pop business of some sort. Where other American cities have abandoned the form in droves, New Orleans has remained a small business city.
Yes, there is a Wal-Mart on Tchoupitoulas – now an infamous source of food and water in the aftermath; Walgreen’s and Rite-Aid have aggressively colonized every neighborhood in town. Yet, until last week, residents continued to meet most of their needs at small shops and offices.
In my neighborhood, I shopped with two grocers about two blocks above and below my home (north and south, more or less). At Zara’s Lil Giant, the butcher took the time to explain to a young man how to prepare a roast or how to make barbeque shrimp (melt two pounds of butter, add cooking wine and spices, and boil!). At the other, the Italian name of which escapes me, the husband and wife team once sent a delivery to my house just because they hadn’t seen me. The delivery guy found me at home, down with a fever and happy to see a muffaletta with my name on it! A mule-driven taffy cart plied the silk-stocking streets of Uptown, finding a loyal clientele unconcerned about health inspections or mule shit!
Everywhere you looked, there were business just like that, neighborhood-oriented and deeply connected. The picture attached is Liuzza’s, famous among poor students and the working poor alike for the $2 “French Fry po’ boy,” which is exactly what it sounds like with a fatty, meaty gravy dripping from the bun. Less than a half mile downtown from my house, alongside the Magnolia projects, stood one of the greatest jazz clubs on earth, where neighbors wandered in and out with instruments, with sandwiches, with “business” to conduct on the phone, while the rotating ensemble produced an ever-evolving, truly indigenous music.
Perhaps more remarkable was the loyalty to local products: Hubig’s fried pies, Taaka Vodka, Crystal hot sauce, Dixie beer, New Orleanians stuck by them all.
Tourists rarely saw that aspect of the city, and God knows New Orleans needs tourists to return to the Quarter and to the old-line Creole restaurants and the hotels. These will be reopened and locals will continue to tolerate them.
New Orleans was also home to a shocking brand of poverty, a poverty made impossible to ignore by the checkerboard pattern of development. Having seen the horrors of this week, I can only pray that New Orleans will focus again on the needs of its poorest citizens.
But if New Orleans is to come back, the proprietors, manufacturers, workers, and customers of thousands of small businesses must return. Can your film help communicate the value of that diversity? I can only hope so; the bigger the splash you make the better.
I suppose the only purpose of this note is to tell you what you missed on your extraordinary journey around America. And to remind you of the importance of your work. Thanks!
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