The Delta
The Delta |
|
|
|
|
|
The deep South is the land of lagniappe--the land of excess, if I may be a bit liberal with the meaning of the word. Lagniappe is a splendid word that you'll encounter frequently in Louisiana. Here's Mark Twain again to explain it; "We picked up one excellent word--a word worth traveling to New Orleans to get; a nice limber, expressive, handy word--'lagniappe.' They pronounce it lanny-yap. It is Spanish--so they said...It is the equivalent of the thirteenth roll in a 'baker's dozen.' It is something thrown in, gratis, for good measure." Excess is close to a theme in the deep South. They have all kinds of excesses. Just like mother nature in the South, which provides with excess abundance, the deep South has excess industry, excess beauty, excess political corruption, excess pollution and ugliness, excess wealth and poverty, and the tallest state capitol building in the U.S. (pictured above). New Orleans is commonly known as "Sin City," they have an excess of misbehavin'. The river too is fraught with deep Southern excess. There are half a dozen facts about the Mississippi in the deep South that just leave you shaking your head, your mouth hanging half open and your eyebrows raised up. Most amazing is our attempt to restrain the river. The Mississippi of course is notorious for flooding not only in the South, but along most of its two thousand mile length. In the 19th century catastrophic floods in New Orleans occurred in 1844, 1850, 1858, 1862, 1865, 1867, 1874, and 1882. The great flood of 1927 soaked more than 25 thousand square miles (a little more than the whole state of West Virginia) and displaced upwards of 1 million people. In response to this problem over the years, we've built levees to contain the river. There are levees on the Mississippi all the way up in Minnesota, Winona has one. By the time you hit Illinois the levees become almost a constant feature. That's 1000 miles of river bordered on both sides by huge earthen walls. (The Great Wall of China isn't nearly so long or so high). Now if you think about excess water flowing down the river, and you realize that the levees in the Midwest are successfully keeping the river from overflowing it's banks there, then you must realize that whatever water would have poured out over the Midwest flood plain, is headed south instead. So as you go south the levees get bigger--they have to. During high water, the Mississippi can easily flow past New Orleans such that the river's water level is twenty, even thirty feet above city street level. New Orleans is after all five feet below sea level (fifteen feet in some spots)! Think about the potential for disaster. In St. Louis we have a fifty foot levee protecting the city. If the river were to breach it, a small section of downtown and a small section of residential homes south of the city would be flooded, most of us however would stay dry--we're on a hill. In New Orleans a million and quarter people live in a hole. High ground down there is the top of the levee.
 To assure that the unthinkable never happens, the Corps of Engineers have built relief valves into the river. There are two such valves above Baton Rouge almost exactly at the Louisiana/Mississippi state line. If you'll look at a map of the area, you'll notice that the Red River (coming from Texas) becomes the Atchafalaya River (which flows to the Gulf), and that this joining occurs only a scant 5.25 miles from the banks of the Mississippi. At this point where the Mississippi and the Atchafalaya almost meet, the Corps of Engineers have constructed a spillway that is referred to as the Old River Control Structure. A percentage of the Mississippi regularly flows through Old River Control into the Atchafalaya basin. Just twenty miles down the road is the Morganza floodway which can be opened if necessary to divert still more of the Mississippi into the Atchafalaya. If that isn't enough, an even larger spillway has been constructed about twenty miles west of New Orleans. Again, looking at a map, you'll notice that the Mississippi is only about five miles from the shore of Lake Pontchartrain as it flows past the little town of Lucy LA. Here the massive Bonnet Carre spillway (pictured above) is ready, in the event of excessive flooding, to divert a portion of the Mississippi straight into the lake. The Bonnet Carre spillway is a stunning engineering achievement. A mile and a half wide, the huge concrete structure rests atop 7,000 tree trunks driven 70 feet deep into the earth. At full capacity it can divert 1,875,000 gallons per second of Mississippi river water into Lake Pontchartrain and away from New Orleans. If that isn't enough, heaven help us.
You can't see the river here in the deep South; all you can see is the levee. To see the river you must climb as much as sixty feet to the top of the levee. The levees are a monumental achievement. They really are one of the greatest engineering marvels of the century. To really understand the levees you need to climb one while the river is at flood stage. The top of the levee is about as wide as a single traffic lane. Stand there during high water and you will be stricken with both awe and fear. During high water in 1997 Isaac and I climbed the levee at Cairo. The water was less than five feet from the top of the levee. Isaac and I looked at the river as it raged against the levee wall. An occasional wave would break and the wind carried the water up to our feet. We then turned to look at the town thirty feet below us on the other side. We stared for a moment and then uttered a few expletives as we ran to the car and got the hell out of there!
The 295 kilometer (180 mile) stretch of the Mississippi from Baton Rouge to the Gulf is the largest seaport in the world. When the river reaches Baton Rouge it deepens substantially and continues to deepen. At Baton Rouge the Mississippi can be 50 feet deep. This allows ocean going ships to travel up river right into downtown Baton Rouge. Both a blessing and a curse, this river access to large ships has attracted industry to the river banks in droves. Talk about excess! The section of river between Baton Rouge and New Orleans is so crowded with gigantic plants and refineries that the locals refer to it as "cancer alley." It is one of the most polluted places in the country. This is also "plantation alley." Obscene edifices of previous exploitation in the form of antebellum mansions now sit along the river dwarfed by massive chemical refineries. The visual effect is simultaneously pathetic, fitting and funny. A drive through cancer alley is like a visit to the movie set of a futuristic, apocalyptic, science fiction film. You start to worry that you may have left the planet or traveled somehow through time. Although I imagine most folks find it ugly and or even frightening, I must admit it has a certain attraction for me. It's the triumph of modern industry--the size and scope of some of these installations is just staggering, and they work! They are what's behind the comfort and ease of the lifestyle we all now take for granted. We need to recognize and admit that.  Few people actually live in cancer alley; mostly poor folks who have a tendency to die young. I think of them as sacrificial lambs. We've concentrated all this toxic industry into one tight section of southern Louisiana so that all the rest of us who benefit from what those plants produce don't have to share equally in the poisons they dump into the water and air. None of us should have to live like the people who live in cancer alley; human lives are worth whatever it would cost to clean it up. But Louisiana has another notable excess: corrupt politicians (not that we don't all suffer from the same). Corruption, a standing tradition in the state with notable peaks like the reigns of Governors Huey P. Long and his brother Earl K. Long, has now reached even the State Supreme Court where justice is bought and paid for by the highest bidder (see links below). In all fairness I have to say that there is argument over how dangerous the environment is in cancer alley. We don't have all the answers. However, cancer alley is still a failure because, no matter what the cost in dollars, when human lives hang in the balance and one must place a benefit of doubt because of insufficient information, that benefit of doubt must be taken in favor of preserving life. In cancer alley the benefit of doubt goes to the dollar.
I don't want to paint an overly depressing picture of the region, so let's wind up by noting some of the place's additional positive attributes. The deep South is simply the best place to eat in the entire country. Creole and Cajun cooking in New Orleans is world class and world famous. For those of you who may not know, Creole refers to the people who are a mix of European and West Indies descent, while Cajun refers to those who are descendant from the original French Acadians who settled the area in the mid 18th century. In addition to their cooking, the folks in the deep South are also famous for their music. New Orleans is the birthplace and home of Jazz, which like the Blues, developed out of the African American culture as it was exposed to European influence. Zydeco and Cajun music are also well-known products from the river delta and Gulf coast. There's nothing like a robust zydeco accordion to put a smile on your face and start your toe tapping.
|
Baton Rouge was clothed in flowers, like a bride--no, much more so; like a greenhouse. For we were in the absolute South now--no modifications, no compromises, no halfway measures.
If you haven't actually experienced it, you can't imagine how glorious Spring is in the deep South. It starts in February when the camellias bloom, and then with one explosion after another that can shame any fireworks display, come the azaleas in over saturated pinks, reds and purples. Next come cascades of lavender wisteria gracefully adorning the azalea's overly exuberant display. By early April every imaginable wild flower is bursting to join in as the magnolias blossom--and words fail me. If you can only visit the South once, try late March through early April; you'll remember it for the rest of your life.
The region is full of wonders; there're the swamps teaming with wildlife and strange vegetation. The Spanish moss hanging from the ancient live oak and cypress trees creates a fairyland effect. Sugar cane fields spreading out amidst the chemical refineries look other worldly. The road below New Orleans is bordered by citrus groves, backwaters full of shrimp and mullet boats and houses 20 feet in the air on stilts. As you drive past the levee every so often you are startled by what at first looks like a building gliding past in the air; you rush up onto the levee to discover it is an ocean sized ship standing 8 stories off the water and moving slowly up river. What you mistook for a moving building is the ship's control tower visible above the levee. Back on the road you realize that the entire ship is literally floating by over your head. You pause to consider what that ship must weigh and you look nervously at the levee. The deep South has wonders in excess.