By: Matthew White

St. Nicholas of Myra Church, Chef Menteur Pass
(Copyright, Matthew White)
After Hurricane Katrina, countless images appeared on television and on the internet, showing the damage, the flood, the Superdome, the Convention Center, and the suffering humanity. Of these, none were as shocking as the images of the people who died as a result of the storm -- corpses, a strange majority of them mysteriously floating upside-down, spread-eagled; the bodies left on Interstate-10 on ramps; elderly citizens left to die in their wheelchairs. People will admit to looking at these pictures and being shocked and/or disgusted by them. Some have wondered if it was disrespectful to publish them. But there appears to be a high demand for them.
A Google search for Katrina bodies will turn up dozens of quick images, and even an eight-minute movie which shows a montage of floating corpses, edited together utilizing dramatic dissolves, while a somber tune plays on the soundtrack. There clearly is a popular-yet-closeted fascination with people who died during Katrina.
Looking at the available photos myself, and the reasons for this fascination become clear; dead bodies floated or came to rest in places that I saw nearly every day. The Franklin St. on ramp to I-10, which I used daily returning home, held quite a few covered bodies in the days after the storm. There is a rather popular image of a body floating on Claiborne with the Circle Food store in the background. It's impossible for me to drive past Circle Food without thinking of that body.
Digging deeper, my fascination tends to become more personally involved with the corpses. I wonder exactly how they died. Did they drown in their living room and float out through a window, or did they slip off their roof, injure themselves and drown? Or were they wandering around in the storm, only to be hit by flying debris? Why did they stay? Were they trying to be tough, or did they have no way out of town? Did they have family? Did their family see the picture of the body?
There are no answers to all of those questions, but even knowing this doesn't stop me from trying to fill in the blanks, perhaps in an effort to give some explanation to the deaths or force them to somehow make sense. It never works. Things are made worse when I wonder if the dead person in the picture slipped away quietly or if there was a terrible struggle. In every case, no one will ever really know.
There is simply no way to reconstruct the last hours of everyone who died in the storm, but just examining the available pieces of one person's death can be a shattering experience.
In the island community of Lake Catherine, in easternmost Orleans Parish, Pastor Arthur Ginart, better known as "Father Red," made a choice to ride out Katrina in his church, St. Nicholas of Myra, which sits by US-90 just beyond Chef Menteur Pass. Father Red loved people, and his parishioners loved him. He was known for saying a 20-minute mini-Mass that was over quick enough so he could spend more time talking to people afterward. When he finished his Mass on August 28th, 2005, they begged him to leave, as Katrina was less than 24-hours away, and the mandatory evacuation had already been ordered that morning. He laughed and shrugged off all requests; he'd stayed for every storm for the past forty years, he loved Lake Catherine, and he was staying put.
The Fort Pike Fire Chief was apparently the last to see Father Red alive, when he went door to door on the island at about 10 PM that night, as the winds really began to pick up, to give any stragglers a final warning to leave Lake Catherine immediately. In what was to be his last chance, Ginart refused to leave. "God will be my shepherd," were allegedly his last words to the Fire Chief. Then he was left alone in his church.
A relative spoke to him around 4 AM, and Ginart said that water was starting to come up the church steps, and that animals were trying to stay above the water by climbing the steps. Ginart lied to his nephew, saying he was riding it out with a group of friends, and that everything was fine. But he was alone, and no one would ever see or speak to him again.
Ginart's body was never found. Probably around 9 or 10 on the morning of August 29th, the worst of Katrina hit Lake Catherine. The winds gusted at around 150 mph, and water rose high enough and packed enough force to break down the church's brick walls, eventually filling the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling with water. The force of the water was strong enough to rip the church toilet off of the floor. The church was completely gutted, with only the metal frame remaining with the roof strangely intact. Ginart probably drowned inside and was eventually washed out to sea with the retreating storm surge.
It's here at the final moment where I get stuck -- Ginart, a man of the cloth, loved by family, friends, and parishioners, dying alone in the storm. I wonder what he felt when he knew he was going to die. Did he go stoically, resigned to his fate and God's plan? Or did he suddenly panic and feel abandoned, losing his faith in those last moments? Those who knew him best would probably swear that he would have known that his time had come, and that he faced it bravely. But then I think, Father Red did not plan to die, and must have not felt there was much risk regarding the power of the storm. I'd bet he never would have guessed that Lake Catherine was going to end up taking Katrina's western eye wall.
I don't doubt that Arthur Ginart was a man of immense faith, and that he truly believed God would save him from the storm. But here, finally, I wonder if it was God who sent Father Red the Fire Chief at 10 PM on the night of August 28th.
For other essays by Matthew White go here.
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