John Hayes is served lunch at Ethel’s Old Corral in Bakersfield, Calif., by waitress Lauren Evans.

The joke around dusty, dry, hot Bakersfield, Calif., is that folks should be grateful that it’s a “dry heat,” not like other muggy places in the U.S. “Yes, it might be hot today, but it’s a dry heat!”

Well, from the grumbling heard around town on most summer days, this Chamber of Commerce spin on Bakersfield’s “heat” isn’t working. Hot is hot, and folks aren’t happy. That is, unless you hang out at Ethel’s Old Corral on Alfred Harrell Highway, in the northeast part of the city.

You won’t find a lot of moaning and groaning at Ethel’s when the temperatures climb over the triple digit mark. In fact, you will find people cheering the thermometer in hopes it climbs over 105 degrees.

That’s because the homey restaurant and bar drops the price of its draft beer as the temperatures climb. When they reach 100 degrees, draft beer drop to $2 a glass. When they hit 105 degrees, the price drops to $1 a glass. The regular price of draft beer at Ethel’s runs from $2.50 to $3 a glass.

“It gives people a reason to be glad it’s hot, rather that just complain about it,” said Natalie Mears, the restaurant’s owner. As Bakersfield’s “dry heat” got hotter in July, Mears cooked up her “beat global warming” idea. She has made good on her offer at least six times this summer, including last week, when temperatures crested the 110 degree mark. While they have dipped again this weekend, if history tells us anything, there will be another heat wave before Bakersfield settles into the late fall and winter cold fog.

 “One dollar beer tones down the heat. It’s not so much a drudgery,” said Mears, who has owned Ethel’s  for about six years. She bought the business from the estate of Ethel Beeson, who ran it for about four decades until she died.

“It’s a fun thing,” said John Hayes, a lifelong Bakersfield resident, who retired from Chevron. Hayes stops by Ethel’s for lunch nearly every day. Hayes and other “regulars” said they have been eating at the restaurant since they were kids with their parents.

Ethel’s is northeast Bakersfield’s equivalent to “Cheers,” the television bar, where regulars hang out and everyone seems to know your name. But even “newcomers,” like Mike and Loretta Schield, who moved to Bakersfield in 1996, find Ethel’s enduring.

“It’s one of Loretta’s and my very favorite places,” Mike wrote in a recent e-mail alerting customers to the $1 a beer offer. “On a Sunday afternoon (and lots of other times, too) you will find Lexuses, Caddies, horses, tall pickups, bikes and lots of us commoners’ cars in the parking lot. [There are] lots of regulars and old-timers and young folks and kids, too.

“The place has a lot atmosphere and a lot of history,” he wrote. “You can just feel it when the country music cranks up.”

The discount beer offer is based on the readings from a simple thermometer hung on Ethel’s patio.

“There’s nothing fancy at Ethel’s,” Mears said.

Author: A version of this story by freelance writer Dianne Hardisty appeared in The Bakersfield Californian .

Phil Angelides, left, and Bill Thomas at recent FCIC hearing.

The pain just doesn’t go away as the nation’s economic problems continue to devastate millions of American families. Members of the Fiscal Crisis Inquiry Commission will listen to real people’s pain on Sept. 7, when they hold their first “field hearing” in Bakersfield, Calif., in the heart of the foreclosure crisis.

The 10-member bipartisan commission was created by Congress last year to examine the causes of the financial meltdown. Its chairman is former California Treasurer Phil Angelides, a Democrat, and retired Bakersfield Rep. Bill Thomas, a Republican.

Wall Street financial giants, economists and federal regulators have been hauled before the commission during a series of often contentious hearings held this year in Washington, D.C., and New York. Commissioners have a Dec. 15 deadline to present their findings to Congress.

Commissioners announced Thursday that they intend to take their inquiry on the road, with their first stop being in Bakersfield, Thomas’ home town.  Three additional field hearings have been scheduled: Las Vegas, Nev., on Sept. 8; Miami, Fla., on Sept. 21; and Sacramento, Calif., on Sept. 23. Sacramento is chairman Angelides’ home town.

The focus of the hearings and list of witnesses who will be called has not yet been announced. However, the hearings are intended to highlight how actions on Wall Street have affected life on Main Street. Plummeting property values, a persistently high unemployment rate, record-setting foreclosures and community bank failures are effects that are evident on the streets of Bakersfield, the city that will host the commission’s first field hearing.

The one-day hearing is expected to be filled with testimony from witnesses representing the financial and real estate industries. People who are victims of the financial crisis also will have an opportunity to testify and present written comment.

This article written by Dianne Hardisty appeared first on www,Examiner.com.

Kirk Roper, left, and Jackie Palik of Tehachapi prepare to leave the Keene Cafe.

A peeling, weather-beaten sign that shouts “Keene…Eat…Deli…Gas” looms over what at first glance appears to be a small wooden shack.

If you have ever traveled on Highway 58, between Bakersfield  and Tehachapi , you have seen the sign and likely just kept driving.

But mountain residents and travelers adventurous enough to pull off the highway at Woodford-Tehachapi Road have discovered the shack-looking Keene Café is a treasure trove of good food and local lore.

“It’s our country club,” said Margaret Miller, a wiry woman who doesn’t stand still long enough to answer a reporter’s questions. She can’t. She’s too busy taking orders and slinging food onto tables, while cooks Huberto Chavez and Christian Gutierrez are flipping “loop burgers” in the kitchen.

Miller has worked at the restaurant for only a year. But a 20-year resident of the area, she has been a long-time customer.

The Keene café is where everyone comes to eat, talk and just hang out, said Miller, who lives in Hart Flat. “I love it here.”

There’s the “men’s club,” a group of local “guys” who eat together every week at the cafe. A framed, yellowing Tehachapi News story hanging from the café’s wall also calls the group the “Swat Team,” for the men’s commitment to swatting flies at the diner.

And then there is the “women’s club,” a group of local women who call the Keene café their home away from home once a week.

Located next to a Kern CountyFire Department station and Helitak pad, the café is the weekly gathering place for area firefighters.

Open seven days a week, from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m., the Keene café is a magnet for just about anyone who passes by. Customers arrive on horses and Hogs, in sedans and pickup trucks. The point is: They just keep coming, with the big attraction being breakfast, which is served until 11 a.m. on weekdays and until noon on weekends.

“Their omelets are awesome,” said customer Jackie Palik, on a recent Saturday, as she and her friend, Kirk Roper, were climbing onto their motorcycles and getting ready to head back to their Tehachapi homes.

With the Union Pacific railroad tracks and famed “Tehachapi Loop ” in spittin’ distance from the café, the menu’s trademark hamburger is called a “loop burger.” Customers also can find fancy entrees, like healthy salads, or gourmet dishes, like mushroom burgers, as well as hearty steaks and Mexican food on the menu.

Pies made by a Tehachapi baker using local fruit -- one pie with the intriguing name of Tehachaberry --  are encased in old-fashioned glass displays on the café’s counter. Miller insists that before customers can leave the café, they must cap off their meal with a slice of fresh pie.

Palik and Roper have been eating at the restaurant for around 15 years.

“It’s friendly and old-fashioned,” said Palik.

Roper, who also likes that it is “small and out of the way,” said he looks forward to the barbecues held on the patio out back in the summers.

Miller said she has had customers tell her that they have driven by the café for 20 years without stopping. And when they finally decide to stop, they become “regulars.”

One of the café’s regulars was the late Cesar Chavez . In 1971, Chavez’s farm workers organization bought 187 acres up the road from the café. The land was formerly Kern County’s tuberculosis sanitarium. It is now the National Chavez Center and the headquarters for the United Farm Workers union.

Monica Parra, conference and event manager for the National Chavez Center, recalled that Chavez and the café’s owner, Ruby Wood, would tease each other. She would ask Chavez when he was going to sell his land to her, and he would ask Wood when she was going to sell her café to him.

Chavez died suddenly at the age of 66 in 1993. A few years later, Wood’s health failed. As she planned to move to Oregon to be near family, Parra said she contacted the Chavez family. Remembering Chavez’s interest in buying the restaurant, she gave the UFW the right of first refusal before she put the café up for sale.

The UFW took Wood up on her offer, becoming the owners and operators of a refuge for bikers, good old boys and country folk.

“It’s a wonderful, cozy diner,” said Parra. “There are people who are in there every day. We have tweaked the menu and added some Mexican food, but we have kept it the way it has been for years.”

This article written by Dianne Hardisty was published first in The Bakersfield Californian on July 25, 2010.

Vice Adm. Bill Gortney, left, and Vice Adm. Mark Fox answer reporters' questions at July 5 change of command in Bahrain

A news junkie, I consider myself at least moderately informed about international events and the nation’s interests in such “hot spots” as Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and east Africa. But reading news stories and watching television reports just isn’t the same as putting your boots on the ground.

 Next year will be the 10^th anniversary of the start of U.S. fighting in Afghanistan. It has become our nation’s most protracted war, now exceeding the duration of the Vietnam War. And June was its most deadly month. No one is predicting when the fight will be “over” and what “over” really means.

Earlier this month, I traveled with the Bakersfield-based Cooks From The Valley to Bahrain, the headquarters of the U.S. Naval Forces Central Command and Fifth Fleet, which oversees Middle East operations.

Headed by attorney Tom Anton, about 60 volunteers, most from Bakersfield, flew to the Persian Gulf to barbecue steaks for the troops on July 4. Since the terrorists’ attacks on Sept. 11, 2001, the “cooks” have barbecued around 130,000 juicy Harris Ranch  steaks to show their appreciation for U.S. soldiers and sailors on ships, on domestic and overseas bases, and in hospitals.

This month’s trip sent volunteer cook teams and steaks to four locations – to the Naval Support Activity, Bahrain; Shaikh Isa Air Base, Bahrain; aboard the amphibious assault carrier USS Nassau at sea; and at Camp Lemonier in Djibouti, near the Somalia border.

It was hot – real hot. Temperatures were around 120 degrees, with the humidity pushing the heat index maybe 20 degrees above that.

But that’s not what I will remember most about the trip. Maybe it’s what I whined about the most. The most memorable thing was the realization that we are – really – at war. And our nation’s finest are out there fighting it so we can go about our business at home not giving it much thought.

Anton hits the nail on the head when he observes that our troops are sacrificing every day so that we can live as though it was Sept. 10, 2001 – so that we can forget terrorists attacked New York and the Pentagon, and forget more terrorists want to inflict more harm today.  Regardless of Americans’ legitimate disagreements over sending U.S. troops to the Middle East, thousands of our young military men and women are serving in some of the world’s most dangerous places.

To say thanks for that, Anton has enlisted “cooks,” who buy thousands of pounds of fresh steaks and haul them around the world, grilling up a taste of home for those who may sometimes feel forgotten.

In addition to being a U.S. Navy headquarters, Bahrain is a “support activity,” where ships – aircraft carriers, mine sweepers, submarines, etc. – come into port for supplies and other “activities.” A few miles away at Shaikh Isa Air Base, additional multi-national forces, including U.S. units, are stationed.

Both Isa and NSA Bahrain are on the Persian Gulf, east of Saudi Arabia, giving them “strategic locations” to support troops fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq, to keep a watch over Somali pirates who infest the waters off the East African coast and to counter terrorism throughout the region.

 America doesn’t flaunt its presence in Bahrain. No big Stars and Stripes fly overhead; military uniforms are not worn into town; and high security is posted at gates, with bomb-sniffing dogs checking vehicles that enter.

Homesick sailors and soldiers are anxious to talk to visitors – especially those grilling 12-ounce steaks. But their talk is general. The “when and where” of their activities are mostly secret.

About 1,000 miles away, on July 4, Gen. David Petraeus took command of the war in Afghanistan. In a roar of controversy, Petraeus replaced Gen. Stanley McCrystal, who resigned after publication of an embarrassing Rolling Stones magazine article.

The next day in Bahrain, less media attention was given to another important change of command. Vice Admiral Mark Fox relieved Vice Admiral William Gortney as commander of the U.S. Naval Forces Central Command. Gortney will become director of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

In prepared remarks and to reporters after the ceremony, which the Bakersfield cooks attended, Fox stressed the importance of the Navy’s presence in the Gulf. He pointed out that the “amazing growth” of the global economy makes protecting trade routes and stabilizing the region a priority for all nations. He likened the sea lanes to the body’s life-giving circulatory system and Navy forces to “doctors” who must keep the veins from clotting.

Gortney noted in an earlier interview that the U.S. reliance on a global economy requires the free movement of oil, natural gas and goods. “Buying and maintaining a Navy is vital to our interests.”

As evidence that U.S. allies in the Gulf have “come closer together, growing stronger together,” Gortney told reporters after the ceremony, “We are working very closely with the Iraqi Navy and within two years we will be ready to turn over the entire mission of protecting their two offshore oil terminals to them.”

Fox addressed the threat posed by Iran, which is located less than 300 miles away and directly across from Bahrain in the Persian Gulf. Saber-rattling Iran has been sanctioned by the U.N. over its nuclear program.

“I certainly do not expect a clash. We are not in the business of looking for trouble, but if trouble appears, we know how to deal with it,” he told reporters.

After spending a few days with my boots on the ground in Bahrain, there’s no doubt in my mind that the Navy knows how to deal with trouble. I’ve seen some of the might they will bring to the fight.

Dianne Hardisty retired as The Californian’s editorial page editor last year. She and her husband, John Hardisty , traveled with the “Cooks from the Valley” to Bahrain this month. This opinion article appeared first in The Bakersfield Californian on Sunday, July 18, 2010.

McLintocks co-founder Tunny Ortali barbecues in Bahrain with Cmdr. Steven G. Fuselier.


Talk about taking a “busman’s holiday.” Tunny Ortali, co-founder of the renowned McLintocks  restaurant in Shell Beach, Calif., traveled this month with the “Cooks from the Valley,” a group of about 60 volunteer cooks.

Ortali and the other cooks hauled about 16,000 pounds of Harris Ranch steaks to U.S. troops in the Middle East and served a mouth-watering July 4 barbecue feast to homesick soldiers, sailors and marines to show their appreciation for the sacrifices the military is making to keep the U.S. and world safe.

Ortali’s McLintocks and its companion,Steamers of Pismo , are well known to many of the deployed service members and their families. The Central Coast steak and fish food restaurants are favorite destinations for military families stationed at Lemoore Naval Air Station, in California’s San Joaquin Valley. Lemoore is the home base of many Navy aviation squadrons assigned to carriers and flying missions over Iraq, Afghanistan and other combat zones.

Both Vice Adm. Mark Fox, the incoming leader of the Navy’s Central Command and 5^th Fleet in Bahrain, and  Vice Adm. William Gortney, the man Fox replaced during a change of command on July 5, were stationed at Lemoore Naval Air Station.

“I was incredibly honored to be part of the Cooks from the Valley Middle East tour,” Tunny wrote after his return. “My heart is filled with pride and patriotism when I tell everyone I know what we accomplished and what the mission entailed.”

Ortali, whose restaurants are renowned for their steak dinners, gave special attention to preparing and barbecuing the tri-tip steak for Gortney and Fox at the barbecue in Bahrain. Other locations cooks visited to serve the July 4 feast included Shaikh Isa Air Base, also in Bahrain; aboard the amphibious assault carrier USS Nassau at sea; and at Camp Lemonier in Djibouti, near the Somalia border.

Headed by attorney Tom Anton, the Bakersfield-based volunteer “cooks”  have barbecued around 130,000 juicy Harris Ranch steaks since the terrorists’ attacks on Sept. 11, 2001, to show their appreciation for U.S. soldiers and sailors on ships, on domestic and overseas bases, and in hospitals. The cooks buy the steaks and pay for their expenses out of their own pockets.

Author Dianne Hardisty, a freelance writer in Bakersfield, and her husband, John Hardisty , accompanied the "Cooks from the Valley" to Bahrain.

Little is left of a Biloxi, Miss., beach front after Hurricane Katrina.

August marks the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, the killer storm that buried New Orleans in the water that broke loose from the city’s levees and whose horrific winds ground away entire communities on the Gulf Coast.

The catastrophe touched residents in Bakersfield, Calif., who opened their wallets and hearts to help people in devastated Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama. Many contributed money and time through organized groups. Others went to the region, rolling up their sleeves and lending a hand.

Following on this blog are four stories of Bakersfield people and groups who responded in very personal ways. In no way do they represent a comprehensive picture of all the contributions Bakersfield people made. But they do demonstrate the generous and caring nature of our community.

Last spring I traveled to New Orleans and the Gulf Coast to report on how our efforts turned out.
I found tough, resilient people still coping with the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Profusely grateful for the help and still amazed by Bakersfield’s generosity, they conceded they had not yet fully recovered, but they were making progress. They could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Just a few days after I returned to Bakersfield, British Petroleum’s oil drilling platform Deepwater Horizon exploded, gushing out millions of barrels of oil into the Gulf of Mexico.

As Ray Cox, the Wal-Mart manager in Waveland, Miss., told me: “The light at the end of the tunnel has gone from a bright flashlight to a penlight. But, we’ll be OK. It’s more aggravating than anything. It slows you down.”

Hurricane Katrina blew away Cox’s Wal-Mart five years ago. Like his customers, Cox also was left homeless by Katrina.

But they were persevering. The rubble had been cleared away. Cox’s Wal-Mart was rebuilt. Businesses were returning. Tourism, which depends primarily on fishing, had rekindled.

That was before the BP explosion, before the tar balls and oil-drenched animals started washing ashore, and before fishing prohibitions chased away the tourists.

Ellie Vasilopoulos in Biloxi, Miss., told me that she is so sickened by this latest disaster she and her neighbors have stopped watching television news reports. They are just too darn depressing.

And she noted there are similarities in the BP and Katrina disasters: The responses to both lacked coordination. “No one knows who’s in charge.”

“It’s a mess,” she said recently. “We are counting the days when they cap the well and clean up the oil.”

A version of this July 10, 2010 article written by Dianne Hardisty  was one in a series that was printed in The Bakersfield Californian about the results of Bakersfield volunteer projects to help rebuild the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005. Dianne Hardisty and her husband, John Hardisty, traveled to New Orleans and the Gulf Coast in April 2010 to report on progress.

Carolyn and Michael Mattios are shown in front of their New Orleans home

Michael and Carolyn Mattios and their teenage sons fought their way through streets clogged with cars and fear to escape the floodwaters filling New Orleans. They made their way to Baton Rouge, leaving behind their modest Deers Street home on the border of the Ninth Ward.

A room in a crime-infested motel became the family's "temporary" home. But the stay they hoped would be for only a few days stretched into months, as New Orleans' recovery efforts were overwhelmed by the devastation.

A dishwasher, whose job was washed away by Hurricane Katrina, Michael would sneak back into the barricaded city, camping out in the wreckage of his house to keep looters away.

Carolyn remained at the motel, struggling to keep her family together and her sons in school. The family's predicament grew desperate until one day she was interviewed by a reporter from "All Things Considered," a National Public Radio show .

Asked how she was doing, Carolyn didn't hold back. Insurance money was slow in coming and meager when it arrived. The contractors they hired to fix their house did shoddy work. She doubted they would ever be able to go home.

Thousands of miles away in Bakersfield  , Jack Hendrix, a retired East Bakersfield High School counselor and part-time home repairman, listened to Carolyn's sad story. He decided to help.

Hendrix tracked down the Mattios family through the NPR reporter. He recruited Chris Thomas, a young friend with construction skills, and headed to New Orleans. They camped out in a budget hotel, working for six weeks to repair the Mattios' house. And when they were done, Hendrix rented a truck, drove to Baton Rouge and moved the family back into their home.

"We were so surprised," said Carolyn during a recent interview in New Orleans. "After the show, people started sending money. It wasn't a lot of money -- $20 here and there. But it really helped."

"We got more help from people -- perfect strangers -- than we got from the government. We were touched by God. They didn't know us from the man on the moon, but they opened up their hearts and sent us their hard-earned money. They were the heroes," said Michael.

"But Jack was the only one that showed up to help. He pretty much finished fixing up our house," said Michael, 74, who now is retired. Carolyn just turned 62 and is receiving disability retirement. Their two sons are now attending college. The family keeps in touch with Jack, whom they call their friend.

"They are such sweet people," Hendrix said.

Pulling away from the Mattios' home, I waved to workers from Samaritan Purse Disaster Relief who were repairing a house. But mostly the neighborhood was quiet. The families that once made Deers Street a lively community were gone, likely not to come back. There were no children playing in the streets or behind the fences that lined yards.

On the top step of a porch of a nearby house sat Joan Lewis. Before Katrina, she worked for the telephone company. She's retired now. She returned to the wreckage of her home and fixed it up. It's freshly painted. The lawn that stretches to the street is manicured. But the buildings on both sides are abandoned, boarded up and marked with the all-too-common spray painted warnings of the Katrina rescue crews.

"Does that bother you?" I asked her, getting out of my car to chat.

"Yes, it's forever reminding me," she said. "It reminds me of the power of God. But he didn't do this to be hateful. It also reminds me of the goodness of people; all those people who came to help.

"Now it's time to move forward."

This July 10, 2010 article written by Dianne Hardisty is one in a series that was printed in The Bakersfield Californian about the results of Bakersfield volunteer projects to help rebuild the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005. Dianne Hardisty and her husband, John Hardisty, traveled to New Orleans and the Gulf Coast in April 2010 to report on progress.

Dawn Lusich stands with her boss Ray Cox at Wal-Mart

Hurricane Katrina was bearing down on the Gulf Coast when Sandra Boswell in Bakersfield, Calif., received a telephone call from her family in Mississippi.

“It’s a 5,” she heard.

At first she thought they were talking about the time of day. Then it hit her. They were talking about the strength of the storm. Katrina was a category 5 hurricane.

“Oh, my God. You all have to leave,” she pleaded.

Boswell knew the power of a category 5 hurricane. She rode out category 5 Hurricane Camille in 1969 and vowed “never again. It was terrifying.”

Boswell, a registered nurse who oversees the intensive care units at Catholic Healthcare West’s Bakersfield hospitals, has many brothers and sisters still living along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Her husband, Bill, also has family around Bay St. Louis.

The couple moved to Bakersfield in the 1980s so Bill could work in the oil industry. Bakersfield “grew on them” and they never moved “back home” to Mississippi.

When Katrina landed, Boswell’s brother and two of her sisters “lost everything.” Her sister Dawn Lusich, whose family had a catfish farm and oyster beds, stubbornly stayed to protect their business.

But as the churning ocean filled Lusich’s neighborhood with water, she and her two young children fled with neighbors into her home’s attic. Rain-filled winds ripped the roof from the house. Flood waters caused it to drift from its foundation.

When Katrina moved on and calm returned to the devastated city, Lusich, her children and neighbors were rescued from the attic rooftop.

“She thought she was going to die,” Sandra said.

Nearly 2,000 miles away, Sandra and Bill Boswell began collecting clothing and supplies for their families and friends in Mississippi. With the help of a Bakersfield television station, a collection point was set up. When the first tractor-trailer rig was filled, it headed east. Just a few days later, a second 18-wheeler was stuffed with supplies and sent to the Gulf.

“Sandra called and said Billie was on his way,” recalled Lusich. “When he arrived, I could not believe the outpouring of help from Bakersfield.”

A few weeks later, Sandra traveled to Mississippi. “We had no Gulf. It was all gone. It was horrible. All I did was cry,” she said.

The Wal-Mart in nearby Waveland, where Lusich worked in the customer service department, also was gone. Manager Ray Cox told his bosses at corporate headquarters in Arkansas that the place “looked like Hiroshima after the bomb was dropped.”

Company trucks began arriving with water, non-perishable food and supplies. For the next 30 days, Wal-Mart gave away — free of charge — life-sustaining medications. Tents housed a temporary Wal-Mart.

Meanwhile, Cox, who also lost his home, dispatched staff to check on employees. Using payroll records, they fanned out to account for everyone. Sadly, Edgar Bane, a worker on the loading dock, and his family of four had died in the storm.

Every employee received a $1,000 check to get them through the early days of the crisis. And when they were able to return to work, jobs were waiting for them. Eleven months after the storm, Waveland’s new Wal-Mart opened for business.

“Like everyone else around here, we pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps,” Cox said. “It’s made us stronger.”

Lusich credits Cox and Wal-Mart for getting her through the hard times.

She and most of her neighbors have rebuilt their homes. Lusich’s house is not as grand as her old one.

“Katrina took a lot from me, but it also gave me a lot,” Lusich said, explaining she is closer to her family and friends today.

I called Cox a few days ago to see how his community was fairing after the BP platform explosion. Many of his customers and neighbors are fishermen. They now work for BP. Instead of pulling shrimp and fish from the nearby waters, they are laying boom and sucking out oil.

“We’re persevering and just waiting to see what happens,” he said.

This July 10, 2010 article written by Dianne Hardisty is one in a series that was printed in The Bakersfield Californian about the results of Bakersfield volunteer projects to help rebuild the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005. Dianne Hardisty and her husband, John Hardisty, traveled to New Orleans and the Gulf Coast in April 2010 to report on progress.

 David Brand, left, stands with David Davis

Biloxi , Miss., insurance man David Brand was wading through water and rubble when he heard a "goofy" idea coming out of Bakersfield, Calif.

About the same time, Pastor Steve Truitt, contractor Jim Childress and a handful of Calvary Bible Church members were looking across an Arvin farm field cooking up the "goofy" idea.

The field Childress had recently purchased was littered with 50 weather-beaten, dilapidated trailer homes left over from the Bracero farm worker program of the 1940s and 1950s.

Childress' idea was to donate the trailers to his church, have volunteers fix them up, then haul the trailers back to the Gulf Coast to provide temporary housing for people left homeless by Hurricane Katrina.

Truitt recalled thinking: "This is something much bigger than my church."

And the project became just that -- much bigger. Other churches joined in, as did businesses. Rotary Clubs opened their wallets and provided manpower.

A loose-knit chain of church, charity and Rotary connections spread word of the project to Biloxi, where Katrina had ground away historic antebellum mansions, modest cottages, restaurants, businesses and resorts. First Presbyterian Church, where Brand was an elder, was the only church facing the water that was left standing.

"This place was decimated," Brand recalled recently. While the media attention was focused on New Orleans, which was flooded when the city's levees broke, the center of hurricane damage was the Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama coast.

"Ninety percent of my friends lost everything," said Ellie Vasilopoulos, a retired Kessler Air Force Base civilian employee. "You would ask someone, 'How did you do?'" She choked back tears when she recalled a friend told her, "Not even a teacup was left."

The damage was so widespread along the Gulf Coast that Brand, Vasilopoulos and their neighbors figured they were pretty much on their own.

"We didn't feel abandoned. We just never expected anyone to help," said Brand. "Why in the world would they come?"

But they did come. And "they" who came quickest were not from the government.

"I don't know what we would have done without all the help from all the communities," said Vasilopoulos, praising church and civic groups for their fast response.

Clothing and supplies arrived by the truckload. Quick-witted Brand became the "go-to guy" in Biloxi in the early days. So it's not surprising that he received the idea -- which he admits sounded pretty goofy -- to fix up and haul 50 aging trailer homes from Bakersfield to Biloxi.

Back in Bakersfield, church member Steve Ogden allowed a field behind his company, Concrete Cutting Unlimited on Well Tech Way in Rosedale, to be used as a staging area, where trailers would be repaired by teams of volunteers. It costs about $4,000 to repair and outfit each trailer. Many of the building supplies and furnishings were donated.

"The first month or two, we didn't know how we were going to pay the bills," Truitt recalled. But then money and donated supplies started pouring in. Area Rotary clubs did a lot of the fundraising. In Biloxi, Brand hustled money to transport the trailers.

Over the next eight months, as a handful of trailers would be fixed up, Bakersfield volunteers would hitch them to trucks and caravan them to Biloxi. They were given to families that had fallen through "FEMA's cracks" -- they did not qualify for federal housing or were on long waiting lists.

Families were handed the keys and told to pass the trailers along to another family when they no longer needed them. Today you can still find some of these trailers scattered about Biloxi's modest neighborhoods.

David Davis invited me into his trailer. The unit now rests on a permanent foundation and sports a front porch. It has been passed along by several owners. Like earlier residents, Davis is mighty grateful to folks in Bakersfield for their efforts.

"God gave us wisdom beyond all measure," said Truitt, adding that a lasting benefit of the trailer project was to bring area churches, groups and individuals together. Some of the same people who helped restore the trailers now work on similar missionary projects together.

As Biloxi rounded the corner into its fifth year since Katrina, Vasilopoulos boasted of the community's comeback. Storm wreckage had been cleared away. Homes and businesses were being rebuilt. Work on a museum, which Biloxi leaders hope will become a tourist attraction, neared completion. Things were definitely looking up.

But that was before British Petroleum's Horizon drilling rig exploded. While the oil has not yet hit the city's beaches, residents can smell it. Gloomy media reports and fishing restrictions keep tourists away.

"It's impacting everyone," Vasilopoulos said. "We are all very concerned. That's all we seem to talk about. And we are scared to death that a hurricane is going to come along and push the oil towards us."

This July 10, 2010 article written by Dianne Hardisty is one in a series that was printed in The Bakersfield Californian about the results of Bakersfield volunteer projects to help rebuild the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005. Dianne Hardisty and her husband, John Hardisty, traveled to New Orleans and the Gulf Coast in April 2010 to report on progress.