Among the many New Orleanians I have been worrying about is Al Belletto, the leader of the Al Belletto Sextet and, in recent years, also of a booting big band. Calls to him and his companion Linda Rhodes in the city and to their vacation retreat in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, went nowhere; the 504 and 601 area codes are a memory. I kept wondering if I would see them in one of those endless loops of television footage.
I answered the phone yesterday and heard, “This is Belletto and Linda. We’re in Dallas. We’re okay.â€
When Katrina was aiming down New Orleans’ throat, they got out of town and headed for their place in Mississippi. Then, the storm turned eastward. It scoured virtually all of Bay St. Louis, including their house, off the landscape. By then, they had gone inland. After twenty hours stranded in McComb, Mississippi, they started driving slowly west and in a couple of days made the one-day trip to Dallas. They found refuge in the home of Al’s son and his family. Al thinks that they will be living there for a long time.
Belletto’s horns and books of arrangements for the sextet and the big band were in his house in the city. He thinks it likely that his house and Linda’s were swept away or ruined beyond restoring and that everything in them is gone. His and Linda’s lives are altered beyond description. The difference between them and hundreds, probably thousands of others, is that they have their lives. In the wake of Katrina, that is what New Orleanians consider good fortune.