The Beautiful Island Where My Sister And I Were Born

A new storm surge
By Sheila McNulty
Published: May 30 2009 02:37 | Last updated: May 30 2009 02:37


Driving into Galveston, Texas, earlier this year, six months after hurricane Ike, I had visions of New Orleans a year after hurricane Katrina. On a visit to the Louisiana city to mark the first anniversary of the disaster, I was shocked to find empty homes all around, “Stop” signs still bent to the ground, missing street signs, and stairways leading to buildings that had long been swept away. There was an intact gate with a mangled house behind it, a row of houses with holes in their roofs, revealing how families escaped as the water reached into attics. With so much of the city still a shambles, its future looked uncertain.

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Half as much time had passed since hurricane Ike had swept on to land in Galveston in September, swamping the island with winds of more than 100mph and a storm surge of 17ft-20ft. I knew the downtown area had been flooded with up to 12ft of seawater and more than 75 per cent of the area was severely damaged. I expected the devastation to be visible still.

Yet just across the causeway that gives access to Galveston, I found a new plant nursery on the left, fresh landscaping in the centre of the main street and, despite the initial fears the city might not come back, every indication it would be keeping its place on the map.

Residents underlined their hope for a full recovery by pointing to the few leaves sprouting on oak trees that had stood on the island for hundreds of years. The salt water had killed a lot of vegetation but these were starting to spring back. The hotels, convention centre and restaurants were open for business. The quaint Grand Opera House, which dates from 1894, was hosting schoolchildren for a performance of Puss and Boots, having reopened in January, four months after it was flooded, with new red carpeting and refurbished blue velour seats.

Galveston is no stranger to disaster. A brass plaque in the opera house commemorates the catastrophic 1900 hurricane that killed up to 12,000 people, making it the deadliest natural disaster in US history. The most recent storm, which caused widespread damage in seven countries, was the third most destructive to hit the US but its death toll was relatively modest at 195, including 112 in the US, where 34 remain missing.

Only a few people were killed in Galveston because the city was evacuated. And that is one of the reasons that, just months after the storm, people are already buying into the community of 60,000. Another attraction is the can-do spirit of the residents, who are rapidly rebuilding. About 300 people volunteered to work on the Galveston Community Recovery Committee, which put together a comprehensive recovery plan. “Ike left nothing in this community untouched,” says Betty Massey, committee chairman. “So we figured we have to address it all.”

The people of Galveston are realists and many have decided to sell their homes for 50 cents on the dollar in an effort to get on with their lives, leaving others to help rebuild the island. Andrea Sunseri, real estate agent for Sand ’N’ Sea Properties, says many of her clients are elderly women who want to move into retirement communities on the Texas mainland so they have listed their homes for about $72,000 when they could have sold for $150,000 before Ike. The buyers are hard workers, willing to invest “sweat equity” in the beach community.

On the drive away from downtown, along the sea wall, one can see how much work remains to be done. The Flagship hotel, which stretches 1,000ft out over the water, lost its access ramp to the island and a corner of its façade, so passers-by can now see into the rooms. A bit further down the beach is what little remains of the 24-hour, seven-day-a-week 89th Street fishing pier, which once contained numerous benches and a shop filled with treats and supplies. Except for the occasional beam sticking up from the water’s depth far out into the sea, the only part remaining is half the shop.

Out in the rental communities, one house hit by a tornado is still without a side or roof. Galvestonians know the extra-wide trailer office that is now on the right side of the road used to be on the left and that many of the homes that were formerly beachfront are now actually standing over the water. Under Sunseri’s former home, for example, there is now a gap of 4ft where the ground was washed out to sea, leaving the foundation on support beams, hovering in the air. The home of one of her friends is no longer standing. But even amid this destruction, residents are busy planting grass, painting walls and repairing stairs and garages. There are trailers provided by the federal government in the worst-hit areas to house people while their own properties are being restored.

Aside from the bargain prices, Sunseri thinks househunters have been drawn to the seeming safety of investments in properties that withstood the storm. Among them is Barb Gatlin’s Grace Manor, a home-turned-bed-and-breakfast built by a survivor of the 1900 storm to withstand hurricanes. It includes a raised basement, which put the living quarters where a second storey might normally be and the bedrooms above that. The beams were inter-locked and the architect encased the house in protective layers – brick over wood and stucco over brick. Ike did flood the ground floor, forcing Gatlin to replace her appliances and the Sheetrock to guard against mould but the rest of the house suffered only a broken window and damaged shingles. Indeed, she was open for business a month after the storm.

She acknowledges that not everyone recovered as quickly. “It’s been a struggle for a lot of people and that weighed on the community,” she says. But most have soldiered on with support from neighbours. “When you’re all without utilities and electricity and have nothing to do, you meet in the street,” Gatlin explains.

Nearby, some shops once deluged with 12ft of water are also open again, workers are doing repairs in others and residents are building homes where old ones no longer stand. And Sunseri reports that the real estate business is brisk. She’s sold 11 homes since the storm and has another eight waiting to clear at the title company, which isn’t far off her typical pace of 25-30 transactions a year. “It’s pretty phenomenal, given all that’s happened,” she says.

One new homeowner is Paul Byers, a 27-year-old first-time buyer, who was outbid on six houses by contractors before securing the seventh with an offer of $75,000, about half the price it would have sold for before Ike. The property had sustained some damage after several inches of flooding but the previous owner had already gutted the house and replaced the Sheetrock and Byers plans to do much of the remaining work himself.

He says he’s not worried about a hurricane damaging his investment. “It was a 100-year storm,” he says. And, for the price he paid, he could suffer through another four of five without losing money. “You gotta roll with the punches,” he says

Sheila McNulty is the FT’s Houston correspondent