For six months after the storm, the Coast resembled a camp for displaced war refugees. Rows of green army tents for hospitals; rows of barracks; thousands of soldiers hauling debris; volunteers manning food and water distribution centers; large tents filled with clothing and even furniture; and long lines of people waiting to get in.
For a resilient people, the challenge was almost overwhelming, but they tenaciously hung on and slowly rebuilt. The storm was a staggering blow and they were stunned by it. However, they had no choice but to survive. Inch by inch, things improved a little each day. The opening of the schools in mid-October was a milestone. When Biloxi hosted its archrival Gulfport in a football game on a Friday night, there was a record crowd and life seemed almost normal.
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For the mobsters, Camille led to unique opportunities. They were all temporarily out of business but they knew the business would quickly come back. The place was crawling with soldiers, relief workers, and an amazing collection of riffraff that was attracted to disasters and the free goodies handed out. These people were away from home, tired, stressed, and in need of booze and entertainment.
Lance Malco spent no time licking his wounds. His home, one mile inland, was not heavily damaged. However, his clubs on the Strip, Red Velvet and Foxy’s, were completely gone, blown away and washed away down to their concrete slabs. The Truck Stop was gutted but still standing. Two of his bars were gone; two others were in decent shape. Three of his motels along the beach were also bare down to the concrete. Sadly, two of his dancers perished in one of them. Lance had ordered them to evacuate. He planned to send their families a check.
As Lance, Hugh, and Nevin inspected the damage to Red Velvet with the first insurance adjuster, they noticed eight large squares of what appeared to be metal embedded in the concrete foundation. The adjuster was curious and asked what they were. Lance and Nevin said they had no idea. The squares were actually magnets that had been hidden under a thick carpet upon which the craps tables were situated. The crooked dice had smaller magnets behind certain numbers. By manipulating various sets of dice, the shifty dealers could increase the chances of certain numbers being put into play.
After all the years of being accused of rigging his tables, Lance had finally been caught, thanks to Camille. But the hapless adjuster didn’t gamble and had no idea what he was looking at. Nevin winked at Lance and both had the same thought: No one in the world could guesstimate the amount of hard cash those magnets had netted for the nightclub.
Insurance policies written in Mississippi covered damage by wind, with specific and carefully worded exclusions for damage by water. The wind-versus-water fights were not yet raging, but the insurance companies were already bracing for them. When Lance’s insurer denied based on water damage, he threatened to sue. There was little doubt that the storm surge had swamped his nightclubs along Highway 90.
Because he had more cash than the other nightclub owners, Lance was determined not only to open first, but to reopen a much fancier version of Red Velvet. He found a contractor in Baton Rouge with men and supplies.
Before most homeowners had cleared the debris from their lawns and streets, Lance was rebuilding his flagship club. He planned to add a restaurant, expand the bar, build more rooms upstairs. He had lots of plans. He, Hugh, and Nevin firmly believed that most of their competitors on the Strip could not survive Camille. The time was right to spend big and establish a monopoly.
Chapter 18
Wind versus water.
On the Sunday afternoon before Camille hit, Jesse and Agnes made the last-minute decision to evacuate. She and the kids would head north to her parents’ home in Kansas. Jesse insisted on staying with the house. They hurriedly packed the family station wagon with supplies and water, and, with Keith behind the wheel, waved a frightened goodbye to Jesse.
Twelve hours later he wished he had joined them. He could not remember being so frightened, not even in the war. Never again would he ride out a hurricane.
Their home survived structurally but was heavily damaged. Most of the roof was blown off. The small front porch was never found. Virtually all the windows were shattered. The storm surge pushed floodwaters to within ten feet of the front door. The neighbors down the street, to the south, were not so lucky and took in water. Jesse spent two days clearing debris and waited in line for hours to get two large tarps from a Red Cross distribution center. He hired a teenager looking for work and they labored in the heat to secure the openings in the roof. Much of the furniture was soaked from rainwater and had to be tossed. A team of National Guardsmen arrived and helped him cover the windows with plywood. They also supplied him with bottled water and a case of tomato soup, which he ate from the can because there was no way to heat it. After five days of hot and exhausting work, he waited in line at a Guard station and was handed a telephone. He called Agnes in Kansas and almost wept when he heard her voice. She wept too, as did the children. Since there was no electricity and the days were long and hot, he told them to stay in Kansas until the situation improved.