As a former U-2 spy plane pilot and war journalist, Espinoza had seen plenty of death and destruction over the years. But Hurricane Katrina, she says, was different. Two weeks after the storm hit New Orleans, she and her partner, Ellen Ratner, traveled to Mississippi to help people living in flood-damaged areas. Here, she talks about the red-state/blue-state divide, disaster relief, and obstacles faced by Gulf Coast residents trying to rebuild their lives.
Where were you when the disaster happened?
I'm a United Airlines pilot, and on September 1, I had a 13-hour layover in Fort Lauderdale. I was in a hotel room, and I turned on the television. I was up all night watching what was happening in New Orleans and later I had dreams about the families and kids. When I saw the images on television, I felt real shame. “These are my people. This is my country,” I thought. “How could this possibly happen?” And I felt anger. I began to feel as though our priorities in this country were wrong -- that we were not taking care of our own. We were distracted on many different levels: We're distracted financially, militarily, spiritually. And as I watched the disaster unfold, I started to think, “Here is the by-product of our distractions across the globe.” At a certain point, I felt like it was a moral imperative to act -- as if you see someone in distress on the street, and you feel like you have to run out there to help them.
So you went to the Gulf Coast.
Yes, we did. Ellen [Ratner] and I -- along with a friend -- were able to collect money from family and other friends. Then we loaded a bunch of stuff into a 17-foot U-Haul and drove to Mississippi.
What was it like?
It's hard to imagine what it looked like. It was two weeks after the storm. You saw women sifting through parking lots, trying to find a few things for their children to wear. You also saw someone who had absolutely nothing -- and they'd be out either offering to help a neighbor clean up their house or doing something for somebody else. One man who had a generator helped provide water for the whole neighborhood. All over the place, you saw a completely selfless attitude -- and also a lot of gratitude for the things other people were doing.
What were some of the frustrations that people were facing?
Well, the Small Business Administration has a personal-disaster loan program that is open to individuals. In October 2005, I sat with folks and helped them fill out their paperwork. In March, I went back and met with about 100 people in a big room. I asked how many people had applied for the loans. Just about everybody raised their hand. I said, “How many people got approved?” About half the people in the room raised their hand. I was impressed. Then I asked, “How many of have gotten the money?” Only one person had. When you close on a home-ownership loan, you get the money in a day or two. But it took five or six months for people to get the money from the small-business program. So you're waiting. Your house is continuing to deteriorate. Mold is eating through the structure. And when you finally get the money and find a contractor, the house has to be torn down.
What has your experience in the military taught you about catastrophes?
I know the tremendous capability of the U.S. military and the government to take care of things -- and also how stressed out our National Guard is. You see a country that is as capable as ours -- in terms of moving personnel and equipment in a massive and quick way -- yet we seemed paralyzed in New Orleans. We were stuck. In fairness, there are many different causes for that. It's one thing to take the U.S. military abroad and move things around, and another thing to activate them within our own borders. There's this thing called the Constitution. And when you start to mixing civil and military leadership, you really have to work things out beforehand. But government officials were just not acting fast enough. The county supervisor in Harrison County, Mississippi, told me, “You know, we had all this ice and water delivered to us after the hurricane. There were hundreds of people waiting in line for it. The guy who was in charge had locked the truck that was supposed to be distributing the things. He said, ‘I don't have authorization to release this.' So I said, ‘I'm signing the team.' I mean, who is going to take responsibility? Someone needs to. That was part of the problem. On TV, I was watching public official after public official talk about the disaster -- but nobody was willing to step in and take responsibility to do something about it.
Tell me about the red-state/blue-state divide.
Certainly the perception is that Mississippi is sitting in tall cotton because it has a Republican Dream Team. You've got a triple play: Thad Cochran, Trent Lott, and Haley Barbour. Whereas in Louisiana, you have a Democratic governor, a Democratic mayor, and a Democratic senator. So you'd think you have all these Democrats -- that means they're not going to get help. People in charge will say, ‘We're going to make them look bad so they'll lose the next election.' I was definitely open to that idea. After having spent time in Mississippi, though, I have to say they face the same frustrations that people in Louisiana face. The money may have been appropriated, but they can't access it. The reality is that Mississippians are struggling.
You're now working to start a community/education center in Harrison County, Mississippi. What did you learn from living there?
I think that the storm has shown me what's great about this country: It's the people. Even today, there are thousands of volunteers pouring into the Gulf Coast to help people rebuild their homes. Whether it's a schoolteacher or a janitor or a waitress or a reverend, there's a spirit of community and generosity shown in the Gulf Coast that I'll always remember. The project we're now working on is called the Pass Christian/DeLisle Community Center in Pass Christian, Mississippi. It will have a swimming pool, a computer lab and a wellness center. All the proceeds of the book go to the community center, and we plan to break ground for the building in the fall -- at the end of the hurricane season.
Tara McKelvey is a Prospect senior editor.
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