At the risk of sounding obvious, the problem with Bourbon St. is that it is a fraud.

Now those of us who live here know this. But for the rest of the country perhaps it bears stating once again. Because I believe that this understanding / misunderstanding lies at the heart of a larger discussion about the role of tourism in the recovery of New Orleans.

What brought this home to me this evening was the juxtaposition of watching the mayoral debate (which was broadcast nationally) and then heading to Donna’s to see some music and then riding my bike home through the French Quarter.

Crossing Bourbon St. I heard the familiar thumping of canned music and then the too-loud, overly-enthusiastic voice of the DJ / MC imploring “Come-on People!” A glance through the open doors of the club revealed an empty club with a handful of sad-looking patrons striving to find the promised good time.

Many metaphors came to mind — an aging women whose charms no longer possess the power of youth, the Simpson’s monorail episode, etc. — but what they all had in common was a swindle that only works when enough other people are getting swindled so that the mark doesn’t feel alone. The corporate cheese of thumping music and too-strong drinks with its promise of “fun” and allusion of decadence only works when the streets are packed with mid-West tourists seeking the comfort of crowd-sanctioned debauchery. Lacking the crowded streets and spring-break-for-bureaucrats atmosphere, Bourbon St. takes on a pathos that is hard to describe. One instinctively turns away from the open doorways — embarrassed: the way one is embarrassed when a friend’s play is bombing.

A few blocks away I crossed Frenchman Street. Clubs equally half-full. And yet, it didn’t matter. Within these clubs musicians played (or not). Friends and neighbors mixed (yes, mixed) with a different kind of tourist. The street was not packed. No DJs screamed at people to have fun. But here people were behaving as people. Some happy, some neutral. Some talking, some laughing. Sure, no one was having the hyped-up “this-is-the-greatest-party-ever!” MTV experience, but locals and tourists alike were experiencing something. I hesitate to place a name on it (authentic?) but what is clear is that it is the kind of thing that develops organically and can’t be bottled and sold. We can argue about whether it was cooler in ‘98 before it was “discovered” or whether its discovery has helped it become better.

What struck me this evening is that any of our discussions of tourism and the tourism-based economy, need to take account of this important difference. Pandering to the tourists who desire a corporate-sanctioned booze-fest with just enough naughtiness to make them feel deviant is a very different thing than nurturing a community that respects the unique culture of the city and provides places that we — we residents of New Orleans — want to hang out. And then, if the tourists want to come hang with us, that’s cool.

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