|
(Oct. 28, 2005 - New Orleans, LA.)... The three fishing buddies never expected their new Skeeter fishing boat to survive Hurricane Katrina. So when they found only the boat’s trailer in storm-ravaged New Orleans, they assumed the worst.
But when two of the owners returned several weeks later, on the first day the water had receded enough to allow travel, they checked their homes and then drove around viewing the devastation. They did indeed find the boat, worse for wear like a battle-scarred veteran, and with a cryptic message written on the side: "This boat rescued over 400 people - thank you! - Ken Bellau," along with his telephone number.
The abandoned boat was found on the side of Napoleon Avenue, filthy, damaged, with items abandoned by some of those rescued. What had happened to that boat?
This then is the story of how that Skeeter boat and Ken Bellau, a 37-year-old New Orleans resident, home renovator and competitive bicyclist, would play a significant role in the evacuation efforts of the city’s Uptown section.
When Bellau rushed home from a South American bike race, friends asked him to check on missing relatives. His plan was to find those people, then help wherever he could for a day or so and then go home to clean up his own storm damage.
Little did he know that in his first two weeks home, he would end up as a guide to a battalion of 462 California National Guardsmen, rescue more than 400 people trapped in the floodwaters, help capture two looters by ramming their boat, bluff five gang members into a peaceful outcome of an armed standoff and use his connections to bring 500 donated hot pizzas. He would also help with 600 donated steaks to give the Guardsmen and another unit their first normal meals since they’d arrived in the disaster zone.
Fate intervenes
The sequence of events that would bring Bellau and the Skeeter together began while he was still in South America. Before the storm, the boat’s owners, all New Orleans residents -- Ward Howard, Jeff Haynes and Dr. Terry Habig, one of the team doctors for the New Orleans Saints, decided to move their new boat to a safer spot at Dr. Habig’s office. The sleek 24-foot center console model with its top-of-the line Yamaha F250 outboard, state-of-the-art electronics and GPS navigation was their fishing pride and joy, recently delivered by Blue Dot Marine, a local dealer. They had only used the boat for 20 hours.
Moving the boat from their in-water slip at The Tally Ho fishing and hunting club would prove a wise but fateful decision. The Tally Ho, the oldest such club in North America, had survived other hurricanes and even wars since 1815, its founding year, but this time it would be one of the hurricane’s first victims, flattened and washed away entirely by Katrina.
By now, Bellau was back in New Orleans and trying to contact the people on his list. His frustration began to mount as checkpoints were set up around the city and he was rebuffed at every turn.
"Here I was, trying to track down these friends and relatives, and here were federal and state people in trucks and boats wearing SWAT gear, intimidating people who were desperate for help," Bellau said, "I just thought I could help since I knew the area and could drive a boat. In the Uptown area where I lived, these were my neighbors and fellow citizens of a really vibrant city. And yet, the media focused mostly on the negative showing only violence and looting, even on South American TV. It really made me angry."
That was the turning point for Bellau. He went home, put on a set of fatigues and a 40mm handgun with holster, looking as official as any one and set out.
"It was total chaos, no one in charge, no organization, nothing was happening," he said. "I never expected to be wearing a gun for protection in the streets of New Orleans."
He started looking again for people when he noticed the 24-foot Skeeter idling down the flooded street. A small group of men was onboard.
He asked them to stop and talked with them, whom he said were residents from a local substance-abuse treatment center.
"They were mighty glad to see me, as they thought I was some kind of official since I was armed and in military fatigues," Bellau said. "They decided that they couldn’t do any more good, and all the hassles of being stopped were stressing them, so they gave me the boat. I dropped them off, and they returned to the treatment center."
Bellau was mighty glad to see them, too. Until he found the roomy, stable Skeeter with its powerful V6 Yamaha, he had been paddling seven hours a day in a pirogue, a long, narrow boat favored by Louisianans. But it wasn’t much for rescue. One day, he rescued a St. Bernard dog and was trying to get a woman to join them in the small boat. She refused because it looked unsafe and was tipsy with the big dog. However, there were natural gas leaks all around them and they could smell them, a dangerous situation. Finally, she relented and came aboard. As they were leaving, a gas explosion blew up a nearby house and knocked both of them out of the boat. The dog stayed in the boat. Bellau said the woman was very angry with him for her fall into the smelly water. Compared to the pirogue, the Skeeter was the Queen Mary.
"I got the Skeeter on Day 3 after the hurricane, which is how people had begun referring to time and date. Days and calendar dates had no meaning. Everything revolved around the hurricane. I had been bringing in lots of people using the Skeeter when a military patrol stopped me and wanted to use the boat. When they found out I knew the area, they asked me to assist."
The unit was from the 2nd Battalion of 185th Armor National Guard from San Diego. Maj. Frank Emanuel, the commanding officer, would later joke that they commandeered not only the boat but also Bellau.
"Ken knew where everything was in Uptown, the infrastructure, schools, streets, dead-ends, power grid locations," Emanuel said. "He even drove us around before our military vehicles arrived. He was a critical component in boat operations as our liaison to find more boats to use. He just wanted to help. It totally blew us away."
If by now, you get the feeling Ken is a little bit of Indiana Jones, a miracle worker and an Army Scout all rolled into one. you might not be too far off.
For example, the battalion needed a headquarters and secure place for its tactical operation center. Bellau knew the Sophie B. Wright School was nearby and not in use. It wasn’t too long before the military engineers had power restored there making the school the first building in New Orleans after Katrina to have power back on and air conditioning. It was a much-needed relief for the Guardsmen and a real boost to their morale.
According to Maj. Emanuel, before the battalion would depart New Orleans, it would tally 11,023 structure searches, many of which Bellau participated in. Ken was also involved in 92 water rescues using the Skeeter while with the Guard.
All told, 400 people - from babies to the elderly, from gang members to stranded rescuers - rode the Skeeter to safety. But that wasn’t the only way Bellau helped.
He knew the owner of Moe’s Pizza, which baked 500 pizzas for the guard battalion - the first normal food they had eaten during their time there. Chris Rose, an enterprising newspaper reporter arranged for Antoine’s, one of the city’s great landmark restaurants, to donate 600 frozen steaks, which would otherwise have spoiled. Bellau pitched in and helped scrounge up some grills and charcoal. Twice now, America’s Finest got to enjoy fine N’awlins cuisine, although not in the manner most visitors enjoy it.
|
|
|
