ROUSES.COM
39
Culture
at X-Press Books would fall to me, thus I
unwittingly became the conduit by which
many men’s reputations and jobs — to
say nothing of their marriages — were
destroyed.
But such misgivings were a long way off
when I arrived at the Bureau for my first
day of work in that summer of 1984.
The story I would write that day further
illustrates that, the more things change, the
more things
really
change.
I had just returned from lunch when the
Bureau Chief ambled over to my desk with
some notes he’d just scribbled during a
phone call. There was a problem, he said. A
story that needed checking out. Here’s what
we knew:
Some folks who were traveling from the
East Bank to the West Bank were stuck.
Some kind of mechanical breakdown. This
was long before cell phones hit the market,
so nobody could talk to them to see if they
were OK. We needed details.
At first blush, it sounded like a routine
transportation breakdown. But the stranded
travelers were having none of the comfort
and assurance of routine, that’s for sure.
Particularly with a thunderstorm rapidly
advancing on the city.
So, what was the problem? Was there a
massive auto breakdown up on the
bridge?
(
The
bridge. There was just one back then;
the second twin span connecting the West
Bank to New Orleans was still a work-in-
progress.)
Or had something happened to one of
the ferries? (
One
of the ferries. There were
two water routes connecting New Orleans
to the West Bank back then: The Algiers
Ferry and the now-defunct Jackson Avenue
Ferry servicing Gretna.)
Indeed, it was a time long ago and far away.
And back in 1984, there was a third option
for commuters and tourists alike to cross
the Mississippi River to and from New
Orleans. It was unconventional, to be sure.
It was unique. And it could be a little scary,
particularly in inclement weather.
The Mississippi River Gondola was a
fantastical, futuristic, thoroughly impractical
zip line suspended above the dark, roiling
waters of the river below. It was a showcase
feature of the Louisiana World Exposition,
better known as the World’s Fair, one of the
defining events of that decade and a catalyst
for radical redevelopment of the New
Orleans waterfront.
Oh, and it was stuck. And each of its four-
passenger gondola cars were dangling
precariously over the river, swaying helplessly
in the breeze as the storm front approached.
From the ground, the Gondola cars were
mere specks in the sky. Each held four
passengers and at that moment, they were
all just swaying helplessly in the breeze.
They looked like part of an amusement
park ride, but instead of fixed to a track
or welded to iron beams, they were, quite
literally, just dangling from a thread.
A thread made of steel, to be sure, but that’s
not much comfort when the lightning that’s
approaching is crackling at eye level.
A nail-biter, to be sure, but before the
thunderstorm reached the river, they got
the Gondola running, got everybody off
without incident, and shut it down until the
gulley-washer blew passed.
Wow, I thought! That was intense! I’m gonna
be on the front page! But the Bureau Chief
seemed unfazed. “Happens every day about
this time,” he said as he turned to return to
his desk. “Write up whatch’ya got.”
What I got was one of my first lessons in the
unique ways and languorous means of life
in New Orleans. And I got an inauspicious
debut to my New Orleans journalism career.
The next morning, my first story, four
paragraphs long and without a byline,
appeared on page B-8 of the West Bank-
zoned edition of the Metro section.
No jump was required.
• • •
I remained with the newspaper for the
next 25 years. The Gondola would remain
plagued with mechanical and financial
problems before shutting down for good in
the late ‘80s. Its base suspension towers, red
skeleton-like spikes reaching up to the sky,
one on each opposing riverbank, stood for
several years longer, serving as reminders
of the big dreams and broken promises of
a more whimsical era than we would ever
know again.
The Gondola would eventually be joined by
the Jackson Avenue Ferry, rush hour “bridge
controls” (Remember
that
?), X-Press Books,
The States-Item, the West Bank Bureau
and a million other institutions and icons of
local life, all of which, as the popular song
goes, “ain’t dere no more.”
• • •
It was the summer of the Louisiana World
Exposition, better known as the World’s
Fair. It was a magical time to move to New
Orleans. The Gondola was just one of the
many curious activities and exhibits packed
along the New Orleans riverfront. That land
is now occupied by the Riverwalk shopping
