No Place Else

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No Place Else

Posted on Sat, Sep. 10, 2005

PASS CHRISTIAN | Remains `like no place else on Earth'

BY JIM MASHEK

Sun Herald

PASS CHRISTIAN - April is one of those months that brings out the best in the Coast.

Temperatures are pleasant, humidity isn't too bad. Mornings are brilliant. Sunsets, even better. The end of the school year, and for sportswriters, possible vacation time, is in sight.

Hurricane season? Not for a couple months or so.

In April of 1996, Ron Higgins of the (Memphis) Commercial Appeal asked me to judge a contest for the Tennessee Sports Writers Association. Column writing and feature writing, as I recall.

Anyway ... I needed some time to read dozens of stories.

I ventured west to the Harbor View Cafe in Pass Christian, a warm, family-owned restaurant on U.S. 90. I sat outside. Ordered an omelet. (Sorry, folks, I know you like `em, too.) Drank a couple gallons of java. Did my thing.

Decided to move to the Pass. Been there ever since (April 1996). Three domiciles, all rentals. Made lots of friends, even more acquaintances. Pass Christian is a friendly place. People wave to one another on the street. I always thought the town could use a few more restaurants, being a bachelor without a clue, but its location was perfect.

A peaceful 20- to 25-minute drive down the beach to the Sun Herald. An hour from the French Quarter and the Louisiana Superdome. Good people. Spectacular homes.

There aren't many of them left.

Hurricane Camille gutted Pass Christian in 1969. Hurricane Katrina obliterated it in 2005.

"I've heard we've gone from 7,000 (people) to 500," said Kathleen Quinn, a nurse practitioner who specializes in women's health and holistic medicine.

"Some crazy things are going on in this town. FEMA just didn't show up. I called the White House and demanded to know when they're gonna send medical personnel in. Because we've been trying to hold this place down. Don't let them bury us.

"I talked to an operator at the White House, and she said, `There's nobody here, It's Labor Day.' I said, `I'm in Pass Christian, Miss.,' and she said, `Where is that?'"

Like no place else on Earth, as far as I'm concerned.

Somehow, a handful of homes are still standing.

Ed and Jan Macdiarmid spent Thursday afternoon on their front porch with a couple friendly black Labs. Their Scenic Drive home was built on a concrete terrace, which kept the floodwaters at bay. And yes, they rode out the storm in their home.

"Stupid but blessed," Ed Macdiarmid said.

Mike Cardew, a fine photographer for the Akron Beacon-Journal, accompanied me on a journey through the Pass on Thursday. A buckled, beaten U.S. 90. We saw more military police than residents. A huge sign that read "Hurricane Katrina Survivor" on the roof of a Second Street home. An animal rescue specialist, Alystar McKenneh of Venice Beach, Calif., who jumped on her Harley a few days ago to lend a hand with the recovery.

And yes, we made it to my place on Rosehart Avenue, an understated house with a magnificent Live Oak in the front yard. It lived. My place didn't.

Fortunately, I got lots of keepsakes, photos and clothes out of there before evacuating on Aug. 27 for higher ground. My high school football team picture. Framed shots of my nieces and nephews. My lacrosse sticks, favorite softball bat and the one thing I had to have, a mounted full-page advertisement from the New York Times featuring my father, John W. Mashek, from his days at U.S. News and World Report.

The headline reads, "Newsbuff."

I suppose it runs in the family. My three younger brothers are calling from time to time. My folks are out of the country, but they'll be back in D.C. before long. I'm sleeping in an RV at the Sun Herald, quarters that are cramped but comfortable, until I can take inventory and find a new place. Whenever and wherever that might be.

I sure hope it's in Pass Christian.

Like no place else on Earth.

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