\r\nOn Monday October 24th, 2005 the wind that was Hurricane Wilma made landfall on Florida\'s west coast. Reported as the strongest hurricane ever recorded a few days earlier, Wilma had been downgraded to a catagory one \'cane and my software, \"Tracking the Eye,\" gives the forecast of \"damage minimal.\" During the early daylight hours Wilma\'s enormous front side passed across the state seeming to do small mischief with it\'s strong winds. Then there was calm which showed that we seemed to have gotten off easily. People were at home rather than in shelters as we had been led to believe we were in no actual danger. Then the back side of Wilma ripped through Broward/Miami Dade/Palm Beach counties and this was the result at Stonebridge Gardens Condominium Complex in Lauderhill. Some of us held onto sliding glass doors which were bowing outwards in the suction of thousands of vortices or small tornado imbedded in the backside of Wilma. Some hid in closets or bathrooms and listened as floodlights were ripped from roofs and propelled endlessly across those roofs from west to east and back over and over. In one section of Stonebridge the roof collapsed on the family and expectant mother huddled below. Others had most of their roof lift off and smash into another building a few hundred feet away or else land in the swimming pool of the complex. Giant trees were torn from the ground and slammed horizontially into apartments. All roads throughout the complex, as was true outside the complex, were impassable due to large downed trees and other heavy debris. Not a traffic light remained in heavily populated Broward County. For Broward County, sandwiched between Palm Beach and Miami-Dade Counties, it was worse than Hurricane Andrew; it was the worst hurricane in 55 years. It was as damaging as a catagory 3+. It was hell. \r\n\r\nOn the morning of October 24th, 2005 hundreds of thousands of people throughout South Florida were left without power, food, gasoline, traffic lights, a solid roof or the basic necessities of life. FEMA opened water/ice centers but, without gasoline or the means to buy gasoline, many could not reach the distribution sites. This is a quote from Lauderhill Mayor Richard Kaplan, \"On October 24, 2005, our community was visited by the worst hurricane ever to hit this area, Wilma. The devastation caused exceeded Hurricane Andrew, and affected all of Broward County. A State of Emergency was declared, and a county-wide curfew was put into place. Over 95% of the electricity in Broward was out, and 98% of the water and sewer systems failed.\" \r\n\r\nOn the afternoon of Monday October 31st, 2005 the Fire Marshal red tagged all sixteen residential buildings of Stonebridge Gardens as unsafe for habitation and thousands of residents ordered to leave the property. Police using cruiser bullhorns drove around telling people to leave the complex. Most of what they said was muddled and not discernable. Many hearing the broadcast did not understand English. At the gate were the Lauderhill Police, while some were observed there wearing black sweat shirts marked \"FBI\" and even \"Secret Service.\" Families in which some members were absent were split. Sons could not remain with their mothers if they were sent to shelters. People walked around parking areas aimlessly dropping and picking up clothing and belongings, clinging to relatives, friends, strangers. After two hurricane seasons of ghastly weather this was the ultimate, the horror which goes beyond terror, when huge numbers of working people lose it all and become homeless, helpless, shell shocked. \r\n\r\nFrom Lauderhill Mayor Kaplan, \"Cities are the first responders in such emergencies, and are not supposed to be the only responders. But when other governmental agencies failed to respond timely, it fell to local governments to do what they could in their limited capacity.\" \r\n\r\nMany of us who survived Wilma hid that rainy night in the ruins of Stonebridge. Guns were loaded and people took turns patrolling the twenty acres which makes up the complex. There were no incidents. The Red Cross arrived at Stonebridge within a day but no sightings of the Salvation Army or any other charity were reported. Police were permitting people to leave the complex but not to return and those few permitted inside were required to surrender their driver\'s license at the gate and collect it prior to 3 PM. Crowds were everywhere and news vans camped across the street while inside people asked one another, \"Where will you go?\" The answer was almost always, \"I have no where to go.\" Only a tiny minority, perhaps one percent, had family who agreed to take them in. Frustration and justifiable anger competed with tears as we discovered that a catastrophe brings out the best and the worst in human beings. Friendships and familial relations at one or more removes were clarified, refined in the clear cold light of who cared to bother with those less fortunate. Some old bonds were found lacking and set aside while new ones tended to be formed among fellow victims. Many from Stonebridge are still in transit with no fixed address and an uncertain future. \r\n\r\nAnother quote from Lauderhill Mayor Kaplan, \"There was a breakdown by the Red Cross, county, state and FEMA, as to the PODS (Points of Distribution Stations). Incorrect information was given to the city and its residents about location, time of operations and supplies to be available. Much of the promised materials never arrived. Staffing of the PODS, beyond city employees and local volunteers, were also an issue.\" \r\n\r\nI believe that about seven eights of the owners of 416 condo units have not been able to pay their monthly maintainence since Wilma. Likely they have been unable to pay mortgages plus the cost of living long term elsewhere. Many former residents of Stonebridge lost their furniture, clothing, personal effects. Except for roads being cleared of debris and white plastic tarps being placed over buildings, no work is taking place which would enable unit owners to know where this is going. Everyone knows about Hurricanes Rita and Katrina but not much about Wilma. Unless, that is, you lived through the storm here. \r\n\r\nKen Kaye, staff writer of the Sun-Sentinel, had the following to say: \"Tony Carper, Broward County\'s director of emergency management, noted Doppler radar recorded winds of almost 160 mph at an altitude of 5,000 feet over west Broward. \r\n\r\n\"At some point, those high winds might have mixed down to the surface, which was why some areas might have looked like they got hit by a stronger hurricane,\" he said. \r\n\r\nWilma was the 21st named storm of the most active, intense and destructive season on record. \r\n\r\nIn all, 27 storms formed, including an unprecedented 14 hurricanes.\" \r\n\r\nNieman Watchdog.com; Remembering the Forgotten \r\n\r\n\"Remembering the forgotten COMMENTARY |\r\n\r\nA journalist who covered the impact of hurricanes Katrina, Rita and Wilma for the Palm Beach Post hopes that last year\'s carnage will remind reporters and editors to factor in the circumstances and needs of poor and low-income people as they think about coverage of disasters - both natural and man-made. \r\n\r\nBy Jane Daugherty \r\n\r\n(Republished from the Spring 2006 issue of Nieman Reports.) \r\n\r\nIt was November 4, 2005, nearly two weeks after Hurricane Wilma, a wicked blow sometimes overlooked in the wake of Katrina\'s devastation, but a storm that nonetheless left six million people without electricity and thousands homeless. Post-hurricane rainstorms in South Florida brought down trees and weakened power poles, while blowing poorly secured tarps from hurricane-splintered roofs. The water damage was devastating. \r\n\r\nI was interviewing Mary Bello, an articulate 88-year-old widow, in her leaking top-floor condo in a sprawling senior housing complex called Century Village west of Boca Raton. Water was trickling down the indoor walls of her apartment as workmen pulled out sodden carpet and set up giant industrial fans. \"Why are you staying here when the sign is posted downstairs that says there may be electrical hazards because of water in the walls?\" I asked her. \r\n\r\n\"What am I supposed to do?\" she asked, incredulous at my question. \"Where do I have to go? I don\'t have a car, I can\'t afford a hotel, and they\'re already closing the shelters.\" \r\n\r\nBello lives in Century Village along with hundreds of other seniors, many in their 80\'s and 90\'s, with their nearest relatives in New York or New Jersey. Most rode out the 2005 hurricanes in their modest condos, which are among the more affordable housing units in increasingly affluent Palm Beach County. Red Cross volunteers delivered bottled water and emergency meals to them, but now, nearly two weeks after Wilma, they were scaling back their operation as \"things returned to normal.\" \r\n\r\nNormal became a highly relative term in South Florida. Typically it meant electricity was slowly being restored and downed power poles and trees removed. But the lives of Bello and her neighbors were still far from normal. When would their building be safe? When would they live under a roof more solid than the thin blue tarp that workers tacked to the building before they disappeared? On that day, no one could answer these questions. \r\n\r\nNor could I answer them now, since I never returned to Century Village because I was soon assigned to interview Katrina victims who had fled New Orleans and were being housed in a large horse-training facility and putting their kids in schools in western Palm Beach County. Like the Red Cross and power company repair crews, I and other reporters moved on. \r\n\r\nThe poor and elderly, struggling to live on limited incomes, suffer a double whammy when hit by unpredictable hurricane winds and flooding. It must be little solace that the authorities advised them in advance of the storms to prepare by stocking seven days worth of food, enough prescription drugs to last for several weeks, emergency medical supplies, bottled water, plus fresh batteries for flashlights and radios. When evacuations were ordered, they were advised to flee with those supplies, a full tank of gas in their car, and plans to stay with relatives or in hotels out of harm\'s way. \r\n\r\nAt first blush, that might sound like a reasonable plan to young, well-educated reporters who sprung mainly from the middle class and are eager for a major hurricane assignment. But how reasonable is it for an elderly person, who lives alone and spends almost every dollar of their Social Security check on housing, prescriptions and food? How doable is it for a single mother with a couple of preschool children who takes the bus to work, gets food stamps to help feed her kids, and whose medical care is paid for by Medicaid (if she qualifies) because her job at Wal-Mart or McDonald\'s doesn\'t include health care benefits? Economically and politically marginalized, the poor have little choice but to stay put, ride out the weather, and hope for the best. \r\n\r\nRemembering the Poor \r\n\r\nLast year, with its record 27 named storms, 15 of which were hurricanes -- several of particular ferocity -- proved most unkind. These storms brought plenty of news to keep journalists busy and inspired in some cases excellent coverage such as the South Florida Sun-Sentinel\'s scathing, nationwide FEMA investigation and The Miami Herald\'s revelations that repeated cuts in federal funding for the National Hurricane Center have hampered its capacity to predict hurricanes\' paths and severity. \r\n\r\nBut during last year\'s storms, when the incredible damage was being well reported and the Pulitzer Prize-winning photos of the human tragedies shot, how many editors thought of assigning reporters to spend time with poor families or elderly people as they prepared for a predicted hit by a Category 4 or 5 storm? And how many journalists -- not to mention editorial writers -- in Florida questioned Governor Jeb Bush\'s reasoning as he calmly urged Florida residents to take \"personal responsibility\" when preparing for approaching hurricanes? \r\n\r\nPerhaps the governor\'s guidance, by itself, should have prompted editors to assign a story looking at what personal responsibility in hurricane preparedness actually means to poor, disabled or elderly people. Where are people on limited incomes supposed to get the resources to purchase an extra week\'s worth of food and emergency supplies if a storm approaches at the end of the month, as did Katrina, Rita and Wilma? Most likely, their food stamps had been spent earlier in the month. And what about the elderly whose first-of-the-month Social Security checks might not afford an unplanned trip to the market and pharmacy? \r\n\r\nIn the previous issue of Nieman Reports, journalists eloquently recounted experiences covering the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Their words spoke to what I\'ve noticed while covering hurricanes in Florida, and these observations, if heeded, could offer us guidance for future coverage of disasters, whether they involve nature\'s fury or more predictable crises whose impact will be differently experienced by those of varying economic and social backgrounds. \r\n\r\nThe poor and near-poor tend to be clustered in areas most vulnerable to flood waters. And once their homes and neighborhoods are damaged, these communities don\'t return \"to normal\" with the same speed as nearby, more well-off areas do. With the devastation of New Orleans\' Lower Ninth Ward -- and the debate about rebuilding it -- reporting has made this set of circumstances become quite obvious to most Americans. But this situation was evident, too, in the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew in South Florida in 1992, when Homestead, Perrine, Naranja and other small towns south of Miami with high concentrations of low-income Americans and migrant workers were totally devastated, and rebuilding was delayed in some cases for more than a decade. And this awareness did not translate into more attention being paid to these poorer communities as other storms have approached. \r\n\r\nAs television brought the devastation of New Orleans into most American\'s homes, these circumstances have been amplified. Within a short time, reporters were explaining to many who never thought much about why a poor urban family who relies on public transportation might not have been able to get out of the area before the waters rushed in. \r\n\r\nBut this retrospective dynamic of our coverage -- addressing such fundamental issues only after disaster has struck -- repeatedly causes journalists to miss, or belatedly discover, similar angles in other major news stories. For example, who are the people who lose out in the new Medicare drug program? Who serves disproportionately in high-risk military assignments? Whose jobs are outsourced first? \r\n\r\nThe unfortunate reality is that American journalists do not systematically or analytically cover the plight of the poor, the marginalized, the isolated, or the powerless. When we put together elaborate hurricane coverage plans, organize medical beats, determine Iraq war coverage, or decide on approaches to stories about globalization of the economy, our focus generally is on implications for the affluent and what \"experts\" have to say, while keeping a watchful eye on breaking news. \r\n\r\nPerhaps last year\'s unprecedented hurricane season can convince us to factor in the life circumstances and needs of poor and low-income people as we think about coverage of disasters, natural and man-made. To try to avert massive tragedies like those experienced by so many New Orleans families stranded on rooftops or abandoned for days in the Superdome, journalists should draw attention to the obvious fault lines that exist in how well various communities are equipped to respond to an impending disaster. This can be said of hurricane preparedness, but also of potential spread of diseases, such as bird flu, or of how a community could respond to a terrorist attack. As journalists, poverty, disenfranchisement and isolation are as important for us to examine before tragedies strike as they are for us to scrutinize after the harm is done. \r\n\r\nJane Daugherty, a 1984 Nieman Fellow, is a four-time winner of the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award for coverage of the disadvantaged. She covered the impact of hurricanes Katrina, Rita and Wilma last year for the Palm Beach Post and recently joined the faculty of Florida International University\'s School of Journalism as associate professor.\r\n\r\nNow, a year later, my husband and I still do not have our condo restored as reconstruction only began this summer due to insurance problems. There have been many foreclosures at our old complex and many distress sales. By my calculation it will be next summer before the complex is reopened and habitable. At that time I want our former unit listed for sale as we are quitting Florida for a quieter gentler place without hurricane.

Citation

“[Untitled],” Hurricane Digital Memory Bank, accessed March 28, 2024, https://hurricanearchive.org/items/show/12465.