Walking On Dead Fish, The Backstory: Part One

Hurricane Betsy was the worst hurricane in U.S. history. It caused more than one billion dollars in damage; that’s the equivalent of eight billion dollars today. Betsy landed on September 7th, 1965, on my childhood home of New Orleans. Although we survived, we lost everything in the process. Even though I was only an infant, the stories live on within my family. We became and will forever be, connected to New Orleans through this tragic event. Ironically, exactly forty years later, on September 7th, 2005, I dedicated my life to making a film about the destruction of that same city, destruction caused by another hurricane, one even more powerful than Betsy; and her name was KATRINA.

When I was nine, we moved to Tennessee. There was only one red-light in town and it blinked, so New Orleans was still “big-time” to me. With no NFL teams in Tennessee, I remained loyal to my Saints. In fact, the biggest sports moment of my childhood came as I sat with my father and watched their one-armed, club-footed kicker, limp onto the field against the Detroit Lions. With thick mist hovering and the ball lined up deep in Saints territory you could barely see the goal-posts. The moment seemed absurd, impossible; Tom Dempsey, a crippled, attempting a game-winning field goal from his own 37 yard line; come on. We feigned concentration and belief as he stood like a statue. Then, in the blink of an eye, Dempsey took two, quick, aggressive steps forward and cranked an NFL record sixty-three-yard field goal, to win the game! In that instant, Dempsey captured the hearts of a nation and the soul of a city. Not unlike the people of New Orleans, Dempsey had overcome great hardship in order to survive. In ten brief seconds, at a very early age, I got it. I understood what Dempsey stood for. What I didn’t understand, was how that moment would inspire me in my attempt to have a similar impact on that same city thirty-five years later.

When Katrina struck on August 29th, 2005, I was living a self-absorbed life in Los Angeles and didn’t pay much attention. I’d watched hurricanes hit Louisiana forever, most did little damage. People in Louisiana were accustomed to living through them, so I figured this would be no different. I was wrong. When the levees burst, and the reality of the flooding was revealed on CNN, my heart broke. The guilt that I felt from having not been more responsive was enormous.

Days later, I was on a flying to New York to attend a charity event for my best friend’s little brother who’d been killed in 9/11. For six hours, I read everything I could about Katrina. When I landed, the first words to my friend were: “I’m here for your brother, but we have to do something for my people in New Orleans.” He agreed, and knowing his brother would have loved the idea, chipped in to fund my trip. I told him that one article had really struck a cord with me. It was about the Tulane University football team. They were homeless, moving from college to college, sleeping on gym floors. In my mind, this team was a metaphor for everything our country represents: never quitting, overcoming adversity, and banding together during tough times. I wanted to help out in some way, and the best way I knew was to record history, to make a documentary. It took a subway, two buses, three flights and a long drive, but twelve hours later I was in Ruston, Louisiana to meet the Tulane Green Wave.

Launch Party

Let the blogging begin!