Xavier Bishop

It was Tuesday, July 5, my first day as mayor. I awakened early that morning to watch the news. A hurricane that had formed in the Atlantic was now in the Gulf of Mexico and would likely make landfall tomorrow.  The weatherman said depending on the intensity of the storm and its proximity to Moss Point, we’d either have a major rainstorm or an apocalyptic event.  I wondered if after 7 years living on the Coast I’d finally experience my first major hurricane. 

After a light breakfast of oatmeal and toast, I headed out the door.  I arrived at city hall shortly before 8 and found several employees already at their desks. They welcomed me to my new job and we chatted briefly before I headed down the hall to my office. 

The rectangular room was made small by the oversized furniture inside.  At one end of the room a sofa and two large chairs circled a badly stained coffee table. At the other end a desk and chair were beside an empty bookcase with shelves that bowed from the weight of whatever they once held.

Even from where I stood I could see the beauty beneath the dusty old desk. Up close random scratches crisscrossed the dark lines of the wood.  The desk had been emptied of everything save for the half-used stack of post-its, a few paperclips and a rubber band that stuck to the surface of the drawer. 

By far the finest piece of furniture in the room was the old wingback chair. Remarkably it was well preserved despite years of use and obvious neglect. It was made of dark burgundy leather with tufted buttons that sunk deep beneath the surface, creating depressions that filled with mire.  As I sat down the springs creaked beneath my weight. When I slid the chair forward the sides matched perfectly with the marks worn into the inside of the desk. I sat motionless for a moment, breathed deeply and absorbed my new surroundings.

Whatever nervousness I may have had going to work my first day was displaced by the unease I felt over the approaching storm.  Everyone it seemed - employees and customers alike were asking the same question: “Whadoya think? Think it’ll hit us?” As if the person asked knew the answer.  Not that it mattered, EVERYONE had an opinion. 

There was hardly time for me to issue memos to department heads about the emergency meeting I had planned.  Besides I didn’t have a secretary yet, so I asked the city clerk to phone each of the nine department heads to let them know the meeting would be held in two hours.

“My very first staff meeting,” I thought to myself. And like most firsts, I wanted it to be good – damn good. After all, this meeting would go a long way toward shaping my staff’s opinion about the type of leader I would be.   I thought it was important that I be myself, but at the same time that I came across as being mayoral, whatever that meant. So the night before I spent some time going over the things I wanted to say and the manner in which I wanted to say them.  It would all be put to the test in just a couple of  hours.

Meanwhile one of the first phone calls I received that morning was from the director of the local Red Cross. She called to congratulate me on my victory and we joked about being welcomed by a hurricane my first day on the job. Then the talk turned serious as we discussed the location of shelters around the city and how evacuations would be handled, things I knew nothing about.  To her credit she had a year’s more experience then I did.  Yet she spoke confidently and with a strong and assuring voice.  Before saying good-bye we exchanged cell numbers and made plans for a more fitting introduction under less demanding circumstances. 

Later the county emergency operation’s officer called and spoke of the longitude and latitude, pressure and windspeed of the storm.  He explained the function of the incident command center, and how it was staffed 24 hours to constantly monitor the course of the hurricane.  I listened intently while he talked but at one point realized there was no prior experience that could have prepared me for what I was experiencing.  Here I was, being tasked with the responsibility of leading my city through a potentially major crisis. 

The morning passed quickly, and when I arrived at the meeting the room was empty. For a brief moment I felt panic stricken, worried that no one would show up.  But just as the thought occurred two people walked in with the others arriving a short time later.  Everyone was scattered about the small room with a few of them having pens and paper for notes.  The mood seemed solemn, but there was no way to tell if it was from the impending storm or the anxiety of meeting with the boss for the first time.  I stood at the front of the room with my heart beating rapidly, eager to start the meeting.

“Good morning,” I began, “we’re here to talk about our plans for the storm.” And with those words, for the very first time, I felt like the mayor of Moss Point. 

The meeting went smoothly, and lasted about 45 minutes. It seemed everyone left the meeting with something they had to do: take inventory of needs, purchase tools and supplies, or buy rations for the people who would be working during the storm. The meeting began with an update on the storm from our fire chief.

Latest reports he said had the storm veering to the west of us, which meant we likely wouldn’t experience very much damage. And as it turned out the hurricane - Hurricane Cindy, would make landfall about 100 miles to our west in Grand Isle, La. Its sustained winds of around 75 miles per hour produced little more than a constant rainfall for Moss Point.  Before the day would end the staff and I would meet once more for a final update on the storm and to make certain all the preparations we’d planed were carried out.  

As part of his afternoon briefing the chief reported that another storm was forming in the Atlantic. This one would be called Hurricane Dennis and would make landfall five days later, 100 miles to our east in Pensacola, Florida.  We didn’t receive significant damage from Dennis either. 

The hurricane season of 2005 would come to be known for its record-setting number of storms. There would be 25 in all with the most notable storm being Hurricane Katrina, which made landfall August 29, 55 days after I took office.

But this was July 5, and as the last employee headed out the door, the springs creaked beneath me as I settled deep into my wingback chair, exhausted from having finished my first day as mayor of Moss Point.