hired to stay with the building to let them in, but cell phones were not working. Labbe grabbed the two-by-four he had brought with him and smashed the glass part of the door. They tied the boat to the staircase and everyone except the police officer went inside.
There was no power. The sun outside was bright, but inside the building it was gloomy and dark. Labbe’s eyes were still adjusting to the change in light when he heard breaking glass. He looked over to see the deputy sheriff who had accompanied them on their journey smashing windows with the two-by-four. “What are you doing?” Labbe yelled. The deputy asked Labbe to feel the moisture in the air. “You need to get some cross-ventilation going or you’re losing this building,” the deputy said. Labbe later said the deputy had probably saved them from writing off the building as a total loss.
Labbe and James headed for the third-floor computer room, relieved to find it dry and the mainframe looking pristine. James found the computer tapes they needed and grabbed other equipment that he thought they might need in Baton Rouge. Labbe left him and checked the rest of the building. Except for some water damage near a few windows broken by the wind, everything seemed as it should be. The guard they had hired to watch the building had somehow made it out on his own.
Back on the boat, the group headed a couple of miles deeper into New Orleans East to check on the bank’s old headquarters and the branch next door. They could do nothing but shake their heads over a pair of buildings with six feet of water inside. Doubling back the way they had come, the police officer motored through Lake Forest Estates—Alden McDonald’s subdivision. There, the water was still so high that the only clue that cars were parked along the street was the occasional antenna poking up.
Once back on dry land, they doubled back the way they had come. After a few miles, they jogged north and west to look at Gentilly. Liberty had another two branches in the area. It was also where Labbe lived.
They found water inside both of Liberty’s branches in the area, but Labbe discovered that he and his wife were among the lucky ones. Theirhouse was built on a slight ridge. Their home, set up a few feet on a foundation, had been spared.
DURING THOSE FIRST WEEKS after Katrina, Alden McDonald worked when he wasn’t sleeping. He arrived at the Southern branch before 9:00 a.m., driving the putty-colored minivan that he chose from the scant inventory the car-rental company was offering. He sometimes had cell phone coverage in those first days after the storm but often he didn’t, which made for a frustrating half-hour drive each morning. That was prime time to call the East Coast, where it was one hour earlier, or to steal a few private moments with Rhesa. The workday ended well after 9:00 p.m., if not later.
Nothing proved easy during those first weeks. McDonald may have had the foresight to outfit the Southern branch with an extra ten phone lines to handle diverted customer-service calls, but he had not counted on the telephone company’s being overwhelmed by service calls. So many businesses and people had relocated to Baton Rouge that it took BellSouth until the second Thursday after Katrina—ten days after the storm—to rerate the bank’s customers to its 1-800 lines.
Putting together even a skeletal crew meant finding a place to live for each additional employee McDonald brought on—this in a city where every hotel was sold-out. “In some cases, it wasn’t just employees but entire families,” McDonald said. And it wasn’t just a matter of finding them housing but also paying them an extra stipend to cover their costs. Post-storm, even a modest apartment could cost a displaced employee thousands of dollars a month. “You need to worry about how they’re going to cover their expenses,” McDonald said. “You have to make sure their families will be all right.”
McDonald had around
There was no power. The sun outside was bright, but inside the building it was gloomy and dark. Labbe’s eyes were still adjusting to the change in light when he heard breaking glass. He looked over to see the deputy sheriff who had accompanied them on their journey smashing windows with the two-by-four. “What are you doing?” Labbe yelled. The deputy asked Labbe to feel the moisture in the air. “You need to get some cross-ventilation going or you’re losing this building,” the deputy said. Labbe later said the deputy had probably saved them from writing off the building as a total loss.
Labbe and James headed for the third-floor computer room, relieved to find it dry and the mainframe looking pristine. James found the computer tapes they needed and grabbed other equipment that he thought they might need in Baton Rouge. Labbe left him and checked the rest of the building. Except for some water damage near a few windows broken by the wind, everything seemed as it should be. The guard they had hired to watch the building had somehow made it out on his own.
Back on the boat, the group headed a couple of miles deeper into New Orleans East to check on the bank’s old headquarters and the branch next door. They could do nothing but shake their heads over a pair of buildings with six feet of water inside. Doubling back the way they had come, the police officer motored through Lake Forest Estates—Alden McDonald’s subdivision. There, the water was still so high that the only clue that cars were parked along the street was the occasional antenna poking up.
Once back on dry land, they doubled back the way they had come. After a few miles, they jogged north and west to look at Gentilly. Liberty had another two branches in the area. It was also where Labbe lived.
They found water inside both of Liberty’s branches in the area, but Labbe discovered that he and his wife were among the lucky ones. Theirhouse was built on a slight ridge. Their home, set up a few feet on a foundation, had been spared.
DURING THOSE FIRST WEEKS after Katrina, Alden McDonald worked when he wasn’t sleeping. He arrived at the Southern branch before 9:00 a.m., driving the putty-colored minivan that he chose from the scant inventory the car-rental company was offering. He sometimes had cell phone coverage in those first days after the storm but often he didn’t, which made for a frustrating half-hour drive each morning. That was prime time to call the East Coast, where it was one hour earlier, or to steal a few private moments with Rhesa. The workday ended well after 9:00 p.m., if not later.
Nothing proved easy during those first weeks. McDonald may have had the foresight to outfit the Southern branch with an extra ten phone lines to handle diverted customer-service calls, but he had not counted on the telephone company’s being overwhelmed by service calls. So many businesses and people had relocated to Baton Rouge that it took BellSouth until the second Thursday after Katrina—ten days after the storm—to rerate the bank’s customers to its 1-800 lines.
Putting together even a skeletal crew meant finding a place to live for each additional employee McDonald brought on—this in a city where every hotel was sold-out. “In some cases, it wasn’t just employees but entire families,” McDonald said. And it wasn’t just a matter of finding them housing but also paying them an extra stipend to cover their costs. Post-storm, even a modest apartment could cost a displaced employee thousands of dollars a month. “You need to worry about how they’re going to cover their expenses,” McDonald said. “You have to make sure their families will be all right.”
McDonald had around
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