RETURN
JOHN HENRY REMEMBERS RETURNING TO NEW ORLEANS TO ROUND UP
HIS PROPERTY
The Detonations' practice space
Go
here for John Henry's bio.
The
weekend of September 22nd I decided I would make an attempt to get
into New Orleans even though we were not allowed according to the
National Guard. I flew into Memphis. We had been doing research
and networking with people to find out how our neighborhood was
at that point. It was looking like the 9th Ward took it pretty bad,
especially the area where our practice space was. A friend who stayed
behind to help out reported that he had to use a canoe to get to
this area and that he helped some people off their roofs. I also
had another agenda for that particular weekend, Gonerfest was happening
that weekend in Memphis. Detonations were supposed to be playing
this annual 3-day festival but our equipment condition was a mystery
at that point and we were scattered across the country. I spent
the three days there and then on Monday rented a U-Haul truck go
down and planned on meeting a friend with a place on the west bank
we could use as base camp.
We arrived
in New Orleans late at night - dodging check points and weaving
our way through the city trying not to get stopped. In hindsight
I think the U-Haul was a good vehicle to have because a lot of the
cleanup contractors in the area were using the same trucks. We arrived
at my friend Alex's apartment and luckily the power was on and it
did not take that much damage. In the morning we tried to find a
way into the city proper. Alex is friends with one of the ferry
workers so we tried there first. Turns out his friend was the only
city ferry worker left in town to do the job and he let us on with
our truck, even though it was only to be used by city workers, cops,
or national guard. This gave us the opportunity to slip through
without encountering any checkpoints, and when we got on the other
side we blended in with the other trucks driving around.
The
first place we went to checkout was our warehouse space. This wound
up being a complete nightmare. Our practice space took on 10 feet
of water. Everything was destroyed. The amp boxes were melting into
the floor, the drum sets were cracking from being soaked then drying
out and when I picked up one my guitars it fell into pieces. My
friend Jamie Kalal met up with me at that point and we had to wear
long rubber gloves, boots, and a respirator just to enter the building.
The water had taken everything in the 3500 square foot building
and blended it into one mass of garbage. There were black mold flowers
the size of my head growing on the walls. That, and the fact that
large quantities of toxic chemicals had spilled over from the industrial
canal a block away, made it unbreathable. Needless to say nothing
was recovered.
The next stop
we made was The Spellcaster Caster Lodge. Heather and I lived in
the apartment up in the back behind Miss Pussycat’s workshop.
This faired well. A little water came in the widow and that was
about it, but the downstairs bar took on some water and was really
moldy. Unfortunately this apartment was our temporary living space
for the summer while we were searching for a new house to purchase.
We did not have many of our belongings there. They were all at the
warehouse space and a storage unit that was down the street which,
by the way, fell over and is being bulldozed. I grabbed the bit
of clothing we had our computer, my one last guitar, and Heather’s
organ from the house. Lucky for me I got most of this stuff out
before the police arrived.
This was the
highlight of my adventure. While loading the truck 5 police cars
pulled up and within a few seconds I was surrounded by 20 cops in
bulletproof vests and machineguns. They asked what I was doing and
asked for my ID. Now at that point my friend Jeff Matson had already
been beaten up the police a week earlier and I knew they were very
aggro. When they checked my ID they noticed it was not for the address
I was removing things from, I hadn’t changed it since I had
moved in. This did not make them very happy, but I talked my way
out of being arrested by telling them my situation and they gave
me an hour to finish. I got the fuck out of there as soon as they
were gone. We were also nervous because Black SUVs with tinted windows
and military vehicles were constantly driving by.
We drove out
that night down the I-10 and I headed back to LA. - driving from
New Orleans to Houston was surreal, Rita had hit the weekend before
and knocked out the power all along the coast. We almost ran out
of gas because nothing was up and running. I have not returned to
New Orleans since...
.
Continue
to
read about of New Orleans Underground musicians returning to assess
the damage
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