Biloxi, Miss. – You could call it ground zero – except that there was precious little ground to be had.
Much of Biloxi was under water Monday night, including the town’s waterfront casinos.
The same scene played out in varying degrees all along the Gulf Coast – from New Orleans to Pensacola – after Hurricane Katrina stormed ashore with 140 mph winds Monday. In Mobile, Ala., whole neighborhoods were swamped by Mobile Bay. Pensacola seemed to avoid serious damage, but streets were flooded and trees toppled.
But no places appeared to be hit any harder than Biloxi and nearby Gulfport, towns that 36 years ago endured another horrific hurricane, named Camille, that assaulted Mississippi in nearly the exact same place.
“I had no idea it would be this bad,” said Greg Bankston, 27, of Biloxi, who owns a paint store. “My parents, who were here for Camille, said Camille was not this bad.”
Biloxi police said they knew of fatalities along the beach but weren’t sure of how many. Officers in scuba gear were searching the bay for victims.
Some who fled the rising water had to endure the storm outside. Late Monday, 15 to 20 people were huddled on rooftops still waiting to be rescued.
Tom Banish, 40, his wife, Theresa, 42, and mother-in-law Angie DeFeo, 68, and their four dogs were on the roof of their house from 7 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. until the water finally receded.
“I’m a die-hard, hardcore guy who always wanted to ride it out,” Banish said. “I know now that it’s best to heed the advice of police.”
In town, storefront windows were blown out everywhere, with merchandise strewn in the streets. Already, there were reports of looters. Trees and power lines were scattered across lawns and roads.
Some buildings seemed virtually untouched, while others nearby had seemingly exploded. The storm surge, estimated at 20 feet, devastated homes and businesses along the gulf.
A shrimp boat had run aground against a drawbridge across Biloxi Bay. Pelicans nearby spread their wings to dry.
Sixty miles east of Biloxi, floodwaters also were playing havoc in Mobile. In the heart of the city, Water Street became a river, as did many other downtown streets. At least twice, floodwaters caused electrical shorts that sparked fires.
In some places, the water flowed 8 feet deep, said Steve Huffman, a spokesman with the Mobile County Emergency Management Agency. In other areas outside of downtown, he said, it was 2 feet deeper.
When rescuers finally were able to reach one neighborhood, some people had been stranded for more than six hours.
“We thought nobody was going to come,” said Samantha Green, 29.
In New Orleans, about an hour after the rain finally stopped, Shronette Davis emerged from a French Quarter hotel where she had weathered Hurricane Katrina to get her first glimpse of a severely beaten city.
She walked with her 14-year- old daughter along Bourbon Street – both dressed in flip-flops and sweats from a long campout in a hotel banquet room – stopping every few feet to take in the devastation. They saw sidewalks and streets littered with signs, roof tiles and bricks from building facades.
Then she offered a simple evaluation: “It’s going to take so much money to repair this stuff.”
Throughout Monday afternoon, dozens of people would make the similar passage throughout the historic tourist destination, marveling both at the damage the hurricane had delivered, and what it had spared.
Forecasters had said that a direct hit from the hurricane could have brought untold, catastrophic destruction, including 18 feet of water in parts of downtown.
“We’re actually pretty blessed,” said Tripp Frasch, who lives in an apartment on Dauphine Street, where he weathered Katrina. “If the storm had been 50 miles to the west, this would have been unthinkably bad. We wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
Fire trucks moved through the French Quarter, hauling debris out of the way, in some cases aided by shop owners, restaurateurs or residents.
An employee at the legendary Pat O’Brien’s said the courtyard at the bar, which made famous the Hurricane drink, had received moderate damage but should be easily repaired.
To the east of the French Quarter in the 9th Ward neighborhood, where water stood several feet high along some streets and where New Orleans police were forced to siphon gas from other cars to keep generators at a hospital working, Patricia Batist found her rowhouse apartment destroyed.
Gone, she said. Everything.
“It’s all floating,” Batist said.
Cox News Service contributed to this report.
