Hard-hit Biloxi Facility Digs Out From Katrina

Convention center exec guided staff plus 50 evacuees through storm

By Margo McCall -- Tradeshow Week, 10/10/2005

When Bill Holmes emerged from the Mississippi Coast Coliseum & Convention Center after riding out Hurricane Katrina, he had two shovels, a wheelbarrow and his Franklin planner. His desk had floated into the street and his office credenza was on the loading dock.

"Everything else was totally blown away or washed away. It was absolutely the most devastating thing you could see outside of a nuclear bomb," said Holmes, executive director since the Biloxi facility's 1977 opening.

Now, Holmes has help from members of a Florida swift-water rescue team, the Indiana Natl. Guard and the Canadian Navy. A mobile home behind the convention center serves as his temporary office. Staff is trying to salvage records stored inside the main server and computers. The convention center has a phone line. Each day a little more debris is cleared. But there's still no Internet access, and area residents are still eating MREs.

"The No. 2, spareribs, is the best," said Holmes, adding that he's lost 14 pounds since the Category 5 Katrina slammed ashore Aug. 28, killing more than 1,100 people and inflicting billions of dollars in damage in five states.

Holmes said he's ridden out two other hurricanes inside the venue, which is designated a shelter of last resort. But none like this. "We were at ground zero, and we were taking everything it could dish out," said Holmes, who compared the killer storm to "a full-fledged attack on the building by tanks."

Holmes said he would have evacuated, were it not for the 50 people, including four storm chasers, who'd come to the facility for shelter. After the area got too dangerous for even Weather Channel meteorologist Jim Cantore, the group took a vote on whether to stay or try to make their way to a shelter further from the raging sea.

"Some had pets. Some had nowhere else to go. We raised our hands and it was unanimous," he said.

The group — which agreed to abide by Holmes' rules — took refuge at the north end of the second level of the 11,500-seat arena, as far away from the glass windows as they could manage. They huddled together through the night, sharing food and water and watching a battery-operated television until the station went off the air.

Holmes had the help of three staff members and a phone link with the Mississippi Civil Defense Department, but there was a limit to how many calls he could make. As the storm worsened, loading doors rattled, windows shattered and entire banks of doors blew out. Then came the storm surge, quickly flooding the lower level. Finally, as morning broke, Holmes made his last call, and was told the eye of the hurricane had come ashore a few miles away.

When the wind eventually died down later in the morning and the group could venture outside the arena, they were astounded by what they saw. A 35-foot boat was in the driveway. A casino barge was plunked down on top of a nearby hotel. A boxcar full of slot machines had come to rest in the parking lot.

"When we came out and saw the community that we knew most of our lives, the beautiful homes on the beach, there was nothing left, nothing."

As he made an inspection of the convention center, wading through 3½ feet of water, Holmes walked into a hall set up for a meeting of the 3,000-member Mississippi Municipal Assn. that had been planned for later that week. "We had big jellyfish floating around our banquet tables," he said.

With only a half-gallon of drinking water left between them, and no federal help in sight, Holmes said things looked bleak until the Florida teams showed up with food, water, search dogs and heavy equipment. With their help, Holmes was able to get a water well working, so everybody could take showers. Communication was partially restored with the installation of repeaters on the roof. The arena's wooden basketball floor provided the foundation for a mess tent.

In the days before Katrina hit, things could not have looked more promising for the Gulf Coast tourism industry. An additional 7,000 hotel rooms were in the pipeline to add to its then-inventory of 18,000. The convention center was readying for a $168 million expansion that would add 200,000 square feet of meeting and exhibit space. The 2-percent hotel tax had already been approved to support the expansion. New chairs had already been ordered.

Now, before they can even begin to think about an expansion, officials must first clear sand and debris, evaluate damage and await word on insurance coverage. In a region where miles of beachfront were swept clean of houses and businesses, the convention center is still standing. But the storm gutted the arena's south side, administrative offices and the box office. Five feet of water flooded the connected arena and convention center, destroying tables, chairs, equipment and kitchen. Holmes said the roof is damaged and at least half the glass windows are gone.

Despite that, he estimates the facility will be back in business within eight months.

"We've got two Bobcats running. We've hauled out 30 Dumpster loads. Every day gets better," he said. "We've got a shell, we've got a spirit and we're coming back."