Major stories and events
Hurricane Katrina displaced as many as 1 million Gulf Coast residents
It was late on Aug. 31, 2005, when an aging bus rumbled up to the Astrodome, commandeered by a 20-year-old from New Orleans named Jabbar Gibson who didn’t even know how to shift the gears.
His commandeered hulk was the first of some 500 buses to arrive at Houston’s “Eighth Wonder of the World,” carrying 27,000 people fleeing the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, which had made landfall 2½ days earlier and put 80 percent of the Big Easy underwater.
Gibson had packed 70 people onto the bus, mostly teenagers and young adults and primarily from New Orleans’ Fischer public housing complex, pooling money for infant diapers and fuel along the way. It was that or drown, they figured.
Many did. The storm killed more than 1,800 people in five states, caused more than $135 billion in damage and leading more than a million people to flee Louisiana and coastal Mississippi. A quarter of those landed in Houston.
Eleven years later, the population of displaced Crescent City residents who call Houston home is perhaps 40,000.
Among them is John Dillman, owner of Kaboom Books in Woodland Heights. Given that he spent 33 years in New Orleans before the storm, his summary of his transition to the Bayou City is surprisingly brief: “It happened. Get over it. And: ‘Why didn’t I do this before?’ ”
Part of this view, he said, was driven by watching the Big Easy succumb to tourism and detesting his transformation into the sort of person who griped about how much better the place used to be. But Dillman said part of his perspective also has been shaped by embracing Houston as his home — though he said it took him a decade to really figure the town out.
“It’s a city that works. I think Houston’s the future, quite frankly,” he said. “It’s affordable. It’s a big old sprawly place, 200 neighborhoods. There’s plenty of room for Bohemian kids to move in here and figure it out without it costing them $2,300 a month in rent.”
Among those more prone to sentiment than Dillman, however, disasters can become fairy tales in the public memory: The storm as villain, Houston as hero.
Reality is always more nuanced.
The Astrodome’s star turn as the shelter of last resort for Katrina evacuees was its last noble act for years. The stadium, shuttered to the public for seven years due to code violations, has been discussed mainly in the context of whether it would be razed, at least until county officials recent took a step toward turning it into a parking structure.
Some Big Easy natives — used to the tight-knit neighborhoods and deep cultural traditions of New Orleans — found sprawling, business-first Houston a culture shock. For some, job searches went poorly.
And yet, countless others have found jobs in the Bayou City — as fast-food workers, childcare providers, accountants, school administrators, football coaches, government employees, restaurant chefs. Many say they are proud to call Houston home.
If anything, Dillman said, his experience of culture shock was welcome.
“To go from my shop to my bank (in New Orleans), which was only 12 blocks, it would take me about an hour back and forth, whether I was on my bike or walking, because you’d stop and talk to people,” he said. “That doesn’t happen in Houston. It’s a good thing. I’d forgotten how much I prized the anonymity of a large city.”
And there is no forgetting the line of cars and trucks backed up on Kirby as Houston businesses and ordinary citizens dropped off clothes, food, medical supplies, books, water. As many as 60,000 Houstonians volunteered to help, directed in part by then-mayor Bill White, then-Harris County Judge Robert Eckels and civic leaders as part of a multi-million dollar campaign to house, feed, train and care for the newcomers.
“When that flood receded, you see, another flood came in,” New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu said last year, as the 10-year anniversary of the storm approached. “That was the flood of goodwill that came from people all over the world. …I can tell you this, we would not have survived without friends and neighbors like the people from Houston.”
Public surveys in the years after the storm initially noted rising negativity toward the new residents, driven in part by the perception that evacuees were disproportionately committing crimes. Surveys showed this negativity ebbing by 2009, however, and a 2010 Journal of Criminal Justice study found no link between late-2005 crimes and former New Orleanians, noting that Houston experienced no significant increase across multiple crime categories.
White, asked recently to reflect on the storm’s aftermath, pointed to three ideas that have stuck with him.
“It really brought this community together and helped bridge some divides, particularly racial divides, in a way that marks a maturity of a modern, diverse city,” he said. “I can’t tell you how many times citizens of this community who were African-American came up and told me, often with great emotion, about the divides that had been overcome because of the compassion that all parts of this community showed.”
White also noted the competence that was evident to the nation in Houston’s response, making the city a “center of hope” in contrast with the much-criticized federal government’s response to the storm.
One aspect of the storm’s aftermath that White said he deliberately avoided discussing at the time, lest he be seen to cheer the distress of a neighboring city, was the economic boost Houston experienced as a result of so many New Orleanians’ resettlement.
“We had people, some of the wealthiest people from New Orleans, some of the most successful businesses, down to the people who were just struggling to get by,” White said, “who moved to this community, many of whom have stayed here permanently and have contributed in many ways.”