When NOLA floods, this man rakes against the odds

James Kane, a New Jersey native, and his wife Peg got married in 1969, lived in Metairie for 40 years and then moved to uptown New Orleans in 2010.

Kane is 76 now, but whenever the Armageddon weather forecasts start exploding about torrential rain bearing down upon the city, Kane’s calm demeanor, the result of his Air Force training and decades as a successful retail store manager, starts to flail and twitch.

“I get out my rake and start to clean,” Kane says.

Wielding his plastic green rake from Lowe’s along the catch basins of Spruce and Audubon streets, Kane collects the leaves that his rake can get to and deposits them into a plastic-bag-lined, 50-gallon garbage can that he’s outfitted with wheels to allow him to clean more basins.

But James Kane – New Orleans hero – is Don Quixote, tilting at windmills.

“The catch basins are a mess, and that’s a bad situation,” Kane said.

Living in a city where it floods worse after street and underground pipe repairs have been completed, Kane continues to fight the insidious, water-table calculus of New Orleans as an unlivable city.

A few years ago, Kane learned that even a small thunderstorm puts the raised basement of his house in peril, so he went back to the hardware store for additional protection.

“Everything we have in the basement – washer, dryer, water heater, washing machine, freezer – we’ve put up on cinder blocks,” Kane said.

Kane knows he is not alone. There is a water nightmare on every block in New Orleans. But, what he can’t understand is why a common-sense issue can’t or won’t be addressed.

Audubon Street, where he lives, was torn up and recrafted with 21st-century underground pipes a few years ago. Kane meticulously cleans his catch basins every week or so, and yet, just inside the basin well is a collection of leaves that he can’t grab. Not even Don Quixote with a crowbar could single-handedly lift the cover of a catch basin that weighs several hundred pounds.

“All I do is clean the front of the drain and rake it all out just so some water might go down and be absorbed rather than just stand in the street,” Kane said. “I can’t get down into that big thing. You can hardly lift the cover. My son did it once about 10 or 12 years ago because it hadn’t been cleaned since Katrina.”

How did Kane know it hadn’t been touched since 2005?

“It had a big red ‘X’ on it,” Kane said. “It was supposed to get cleaned after Katrina, but it never did.”

Last year, Kane called the Department of Public Works’ 311 hotline to report several clogged catch basins in crying need of cleaning. He had heard all about the millions of dollars appropriated for vacuum trucks that would work their fairytale magic and make water really vanish into thin air.

“It’s a mess,” Kane said. “Nobody’s ever come out to clean them. I looked at them before the last storm (on April 10), and they were so jam-packed. That’s why I try to clean my basins. It’s for selfish reasons. Every time we get rain on this brand new street, we have floods. My yard floods, and then my basement floods.”

The city’s street repairs incrementally raised the level of the pothole-free roadway by a few inches, so gravity channels the stream of water inexorably into his home.

Kane and his wife attend Mass at the National Shrine of Our Lady of Prompt Succor on State Street, about 10 minutes away, which floods in a heavy dew. Kane got misty-eyed when he saw the television report of a 90-something homeowner cleaning out his catch basin because it’s the 

only one that actually sucks water on State Street.

On what planet are we living when our neighborhood’s flood protection depends on a 90-year-old stalwart to clean leaves out of his drain? Of course, he had the nerve to clean out only one drain. Why couldn’t he have done 10 or 15 more before breakfast? Then he wouldn’t have had to stand in knee-deep water. 

The Greatest Generation? Nah. Slacker.

I cherish every moment of smell, taste and “how-ya-doing-baby!” that comes undeservedly from being a native New Orleanian, but after another 100-year flood event, I have to say I’m so sick of my infuriating city.

Every rain event triggers a panic attack. Federal money has given us far superior hurricane flood protection – there is no question of that, especially if you have a chance, as I did, to view up close the mammoth, rotating flood walls at the head of the Mr. Go.

But thunderstorm protection? That’s a broken pipe dream.

About two years ago, our Gentilly neighborhood near the new Holy Cross School “benefited” from an 18-month street repair project that included new underground culverts. We flood worse today than ever. Our street has  flooded to the steps at least six times in the last eight years, including twice when canoe races broke out on Perlita and Pressburg. The winners were last seen rowing toward Lake Pontchartrain.

Kane has seen his own races. In one recent flood, the Tulane University women’s swim team put on their suits and backstroked down Audubon.

“We had people tubing down the street,” Kane said.

The Sewerage and Water Board reported – and they did it with a sense of pride and transparency – that 92 of its 99 pumps were operational, as if that were a badge of honor. I call it S&WB roulette. I guess that 93% qualifies as a low A.

Why do we put up with this? Are Mardi Gras and daiquiris-on-the-go worth it?

“I question that all the time,” Kane said. “I used to have a lot more fun when I was 20, 30, 40, 50. Now, we don’t do as much fun stuff. So, is it worth it? It’s crazy. The whole city floods every time.”

Ultimately, we as taxpayers are responsible. Why do we not demand accountabilty? Until we face that question, we deserve everything we get.

[email protected]