The language of the southern United States is one of polite obfuscation. It is often hard to get to the point of a conversation with all the personal inquiries, compliments and un-modern courtesy cluttering things up. So many words are spoken, all designed to merely make the other person feel comfortable, that many times in my life I have walked away from a New Orleans street-corner encounter feeling good, but wondering what was actually said.
Southern politeness can be a hazard in everyday life. I am a southern boy, born and bred, as they say. I was trained to show respect for ladies and my elders, take my hat off indoors, put my hand over my mouth when I sneeze, never use profanity in front of clergy, and to always offer other people considerations first.
Therefore one fine afternoon up north in New York City, at 22 years of age I was more than taken aback when I met my first modern woman, a person who literally screamed at me for five long minutes in front of a large, interested but embarrassed crowd of strangers. My crime: opening a door and offering a courteous nod of the head to allow a lady to pass through first. La Moderne was insulted mightily at my actions, and she let me know that in graphic, anatomically-referenced terms.
This does not happen in New Orleans.
As a somewhat convoluted but universally-applicable example of this need for politeness, I offer an old chestnut, about the disdain for certain activities among southern belles. It still rings true in 2006:
Q: Why do southern women never have group sex?
A: They can't spare the time to send out that many "thank you" notes.
Jim Gabour is a film producer, writer and director living in New Orleans. His website is here.
Also by Jim Gabour in openDemocracy:
"A New Orleans diary" (February 2006)
"New Orleans ode to carnival"
(February 2006)
"Out of order"
(March 2006)
"The deliverymans story" (March 2006)
"An electoral storm in New Orleans"
(April 2006)
Decorum and decision
And so to the 2006 mayor's race.
Twenty-five candidates initially filed official paperwork to run for the office, as the current mayor seemed such an easy mark that anyone could unseat him, but by the time the real political machinery began this number had dwindled to just over a dozen. Of those there remained a few outrageous entries, some funny, some frightening.
But after all the hubbub of the primaries, there remain only two, Mitch Landrieu and the incumbent, Ray Nagin. And they are polite to a fault, knowing that whoever loses in the run-off vote on 20 May, he will have to work with the winner the very day after the election. To keep the city afloat, and undivided.
"Undivided", because many pundits say the vote will come down to race, that blacks will be loyal to Nagin and whites to Landrieu in a city now almost evenly divided in that regard.
This generalisation may be the opposite of reality. Many whites feel Landrieu is too liberal. And, because US senator Mary Landrieu is such an opponent of the president, they feel strongly that Mitch in office is a detriment to getting federal aid. At the same time a large portion of the "chocolate city" contingent feel that Nagin is already too much of a loose cannon (and mouth), and that he has lost the credibility to be able ever again to rally the national cooperation necessary for the city's rebuilding.
They are an interesting pair.
As I said, both are polite.
Mitch Landrieu, the state's lieutenant-governor, is the son of former mayor Moon Landrieu, and the brother of aforementioned Mary Landrieu. There are judges and appointees by the score, all bearing the same surname. The family is a stream of politicians that runs through New Orleans like mud down the Mississippi. And any farmer will tell you that alluvium may be sloppy and occasionally inconvenient, but it also guarantees the fertility of the river's delta.
I cannot fault the family on large issues. They are good people, by and large, and seem well-intentioned.
But there are questions about both Mitch's future ambitions will he be running for governor very shortly? And his focus is he already looking beyond the city?
The Landrieus have always done well with the African-American community. Mitch's dad broke all precedents for racial inclusion during his tenure as mayor. Everyone loved Moon Landrieu. And as a Catholic, he also crossed over to appeal to the French Creole community, in spite of liberal attitudes toward abortion, divorce, and the separation of church and state.
Mitch Landrieu's base of support transcends race, he will tell you.
I have known the current mayor, Ray Nagin, personally, since we both worked at a local television cable company some years back. He was occupied first as an accountant and then general manager. I was executive producer in programming. He is a gentleman, one of the most likable men I have ever met, sensible and honest. I voted for him the first time he ran for office.
He is slightly more centrist than Landrieu, also is Catholic, and appeals to many of the city's more conservative pastors, both white and black.
But there are questions being weighed about Ray's continued capability to govern effectively after the many recent, high-profile gaffes. I have heard the argument that, post-Katrina, he should be awarded a two-year vacation, and then we should let him come back and be mayor again without an election, out of gratitude for getting us this far. I am not sure that even Ray would object to that at this point.
Another friend suggested that a re-elected Nagin would be good for the city, because if elected this time he would then face term-limits no re-election and would not be afraid to make the hard choices that we all know are now necessary.
I wonder.
For his first term, the white community voted overwhelmingly for Nagin the non-politician, Nagin the businessman, and there once lay his strength.
Things are different in a post-Katrina world. The candidates have been meeting in debates every night these last two weeks, and have developed a forced cordiality onstage that somehow reminds me of that "southern belle" story.
I have no idea if voting for the least-polite of the candidates might actually be voting for the most-forceful. The election is upon me and I have no idea which lever I will pull.
All I know is that I will awake this Sunday morning, walk out front to pick up the newspaper, and with the depleted but valiant population of New Orleans, look at a headline to discover our mutual fates.
Wish us luck, world. We'll be sure to send "thank you" notes.
