Louisiana Politics: Blanco relives days after Hurricane Katrina

On Nov. 15, 2003, Kathleen Blanco became the first women ever elected as a Louisiana governor.
She was also placed as 23rd in America’s line of women governors — since 1975, at least, when late Connecticut Gov. Ella T. Grasso became the first woman elected who wasn’t the widow or spouse of a preceding governor. After moving on from a life that was dominated by raising children, which led to a seat in the state House and on the Public Service Commission, Governor Blanco clearly had history at her back.
She was also heading back to her old stomping grounds in the Capitol in Baton Rouge. She was looking forward to her return. The Legislature at the turn of the century was a far cry from the wild and frat-like House in which she served during the 1980’s, but it was a world she knew.
“I’m going to tell you, it was loose and free in those years,” she said, reflecting on her own time in the House. “Edwin Edwards was the governor and John Alario was the speaker of the House. They would tell us to be there at nine o’clock, when the gavel would go down. Then at 10 o’clock — they would bring us in and then break — then at 10 o’clock everybody would wander to the committees. Most of the committees were done by noon and then we would not come back until four in the afternoon.”
Reminiscing about the Reagan Decade during her interview was much more pleasant than recalling the gubernatorial campaign she survived. The intensity dropped off only once, during the summer of 2003, when several candidates dropped out.
Sitting at their dining room table in Lafayette just after these candidates made their exits, Mrs. Blanco and her husband, Coach Raymond Blanco, charted a likely path to the runoff. The roadblocks the traditional Democratic votes they needed ended up being then-Attorney General Richard Ieyoub, former Congressman Buddy Leach, former state Senate President Randy Ewing, and former state Senator J.E. Jumonville.
Clearly, Ieyoub would be the toughest challenger. He had as much statewide name recognition as Mrs. Blanco and could generate dollars like an ATM. As a Lake Charles native, he also shared Acadiana as a home base.
That 2003 campaign was a smart, lean operation, with the Blancos and their inner circle determined to keep costs at a minimum. For example, rather than rack up hotel bills all over the state, the candidate and her traveling staff bunked in the homes of family, friends, and supporters. But there was one thing they didn’t cut corners on.
“TV! TV! TV!” Coach Blanco, a professional pollster and consultant, exclaimed. “That’s one thing we learned way back in the beginning. That’s what my job was, to take care of the money and give it to (media consultant Ray) Teddlie.”
The primary gave her a narrow edge over Ieyoub — fewer than 27,000 votes. But it really didn’t matter. She was in the runoff.
On Aug. 5, 2003, The Associated Press went with this lede: “A conservative Republican held a wide lead in an open primary for Louisiana governor on Saturday, with Lt. Gov. Kathleen Blanco, a Democrat, in second place."
Bobby Jindal was the ambitious son of Indian immigrants. He was also Gov. Mike Foster’s health secretary and president of the University of Louisiana system before landing a job in President George W. Bush’s administration. But Mr. Jindal had left D.C. at Governor Foster’s urging, returning home to run for governor at the ripe age of 32. In the primary, he defeated former House Speaker Hunt Downer. Going into the runoff, Mr. Jindal held a sizable lead, an even larger war chest, and the endorsement of the president.
On Election Day, the Blancos cast their ballots in Lafayette before camping out to monitor the returns. After exchanging the lead with Mr. Jindal several times, the final tracking poll showed Team KBB ahead, although Coach was as nervous as his days on the football field, the clock counting and just inches from the end zone. Later that evening, 52 percent of the vote helped Coach calm down, not to mention the 54,874 votes that put the campaign over the top.
Alas, everything as in everything changed in most of Louisiana on Aug. 29, 2005. What rolled ashore in the southern reaches of Plaquemines Parish had brought with it an end to Gov. Blanco’s elected career, although she didn’t know it yet
The Atlantic event could have been named Jose had it formed just a touch earlier, but Katrina it was. More specifically, she was a devastating Category 5 hurricane, and an apocalyptic path of destruction was being left in her wake. Coastal communities were decimated, floodwaters reached second story windows in Chalmette, and a levee breach in New Orleans filled the bowl-shaped city with terror as residents died or became trapped.
Gov. Blanco boarded a helicopter in Baton Rouge the next morning to fly over the impacted areas and assess the situation for herself. After viewing the damage and briefly touching down at the Superdome to meet with what the cable networks were calling “refugees,” the governor returned to the Capital City. With the eyes of the nation on her state, she addressed the assembled media in a small briefing room in the state’s emergency operations center. For most Americans outside Louisiana, this was their first introduction to Gov. Blanco.
In the haze of the tragedy, she offered a somewhat dizzy summary for reporters before locking eyes with Ed Anderson, a veteran at The Times-Picayune. Without warning, he quietly started to weep, which touched the governor deeply. She knew Ed and his wife, and she was aware of their profound connections to the Crescent City. The intimacy of the moment and her history with Ed overtook Gov. Blanco.
“If you can’t cry when so much has been lost,” she thought to herself, “when do you cry?”
Michael Brown, who served as the director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, would later tell historian Douglas Brinkley, “I just see Blanco as this really nice woman who is just way beyond her level of ability.”
White House Chief of Staff Andrew Card was running late, and Gov. Blanco was furious. A couple months had passed since Katrina made landfall her public image went sideways. Since then a predictable game of pointed fingers had commenced. Voices in state government cited problems with the federal response as sources close to President George W. Bush pushed stories to reporters about gubernatorial mismanagement. Sitting in the West Wing awaiting Mr. Card, Gov. Blanco realized she was on enemy turf; and for their part, they surely thought an intruder was in their midsts.
When she was finally let into the chief of staff’s office, Mr. Card was dismissive and noted that her 10-minute courtesy visit was ticking away. Gov, Blanco gave him a look that her children would have instantly recognized — and feared.
“You’ve never heard me say a word against the president of the United States during this whole turmoil,” she exploded. “But you put your dogs on me and tried to undermine what I was doing.”
Card stuttered, willing some sort of response to escape his mount. Governor Blanco cut him off.
“And Karl Rove put out a lie on me about the disaster declaration,” she said, referring to the president’s senior adviser. “You’re misinterpreting nice for weakness. The only thing is, I’ve been watching you all. What you do understand is war. So I’m declaring war on the White House!”
Gov. Blanco was livid, and loving it.
If the White House continued its assault, she vowed that her administration would refuse to sign off on oil and gas drilling permits.
Production in the Gulf of Mexico would grind to a halt, she warned the president’s chief of staff. Her team would also start hitting back in the mainstream media, she added.
The threats panicked Mr. Card, she later recalled.
“You realize you threatened the president of the United States, right?”
Mrs. Blanco nodded without a degree of emotion. She was eager to return home, where voters would soon learn — but not be surprised by — her decision to forgo a re-election campaign. And she just couldn’t wait to see Coach. He was going to love this story.
Did she just threaten the president?
I did,” Gov. Blanco said while staring down the aide and making her own political exit. “Not once, but twice!”
An oral history recorded Aug. 14, 2018, inside the Blancos’ Lafayette home served as the basis for this series. For more Louisiana political news, visit www.LaPolitics.com or follow Jeremy Alford on Twitter @LaPoliticsNow.