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Disney, La.
The Occidental Tourist · June 14, 2000

The Tourist is beginning to feel like he's in the movie "Groundhog Day" every time he goes to another city: Is there just one city out there that hasn't sold its soul to cookie-cutter chains and the Disney-ization of America? First, Times Square and Las Vegas ...

... et tu, Crescent City?

OK, loyal readers know this is sounding familiar. But, since the Tourist last sniped at New Orleans for selling out to canned entertainment, it's gotten worse. The Missus and the Tourist recently spent a weekend in New Orleans, celebrating the fourth anniversary. Given the special occasion and the city's reputation for boozy revelry, we kept our 14-month-old son back home with family.

For sure, at least a quorum of the seven deadly sins was well represented on Bourbon Street. Elsewhere in the beloved French Quarter, however, New Orleans has surrendered far too much of itself to the glut of pre-fab fun. The prize? A strained appeal to families and tourists who apparently go out of their way to seek places that are exactly the same as the ones they have back home.

There's no greater offender than Decatur Street. At the historic Jackson Brewery and warehouse, a line stretched for concert tickets. Wynton Marsalis, perhaps?

No. Backstreet Boys. What a horrific scene. Baseball-cap wearing youngsters and cell-phoning parents waited outside Tower Records, which has opened a location at the famous brewery. Y'see, the Jackson Brewery is now "the Jax," complete with "over 50 stores, kiosks, restaurants ...." Hard Rock Cafe, Planet Hollywood and the Sunglass Hut have all set up shop. At the information booth, I asked whether they had any printed information on the brewery's history. "Nah, nothin'," a vendor replied. But her partner directed me upstairs, where I could buy baseball caps. Gee, um, thanks.

Across the street, a Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. has moved in and, just a few blocks away, the sign at the House of Blues says "Be Nice or Leave" as patrons make their way under the luminous blue street lights into the Voodoo Bar. Sca-ry.

For New Orleans, the seeds of sterilization were planted several years back, when local experts blamed a dip in Mardi Gras revenues on the X-rated nature of the annual two-week party. So onward with the family-targeted, full-court flackdom. "Show us your ... Beanie Babies?"

(Editor to Tourist: Are you finished, now?)

Fat chance! The Tourist has just STARTED ...

(Editor: C'mon. It's not like we don't agree with your take here. Hell, the next thing you know, the Quarter's tarot card readers will be brought to you by Sprint. But this is not new territory. It's the American way. Why fight it?)

Why not! We can get cities to pass laws, right? You can designate certain old neighborhoods as historic zones. That way, no TGI-anything can purchase centuries-old properties and convert them into commercially crass money-makers. Certain cities, such as Savannah, Ga., have done just this and have gotten fat with tourism dollars in the process.

(Editor: A historic zone? Look, a 100-year-old chicken coop is still a chicken coop. Why not just put select, worthwhile buildings on the federal register to protect them?)

That's a common misconception, boss. Most people assume that properties on the National Register of Historic Places are safe. But they aren't. The federal program can designate a property as historic, but can't keep it from getting flattened. A zone provides protection to historic structures that the register can't. To protect properties, local leaders need to set up the protection and make it stick. Then it's 'see ya, chain city ...'

(Editor: Gees, for a cynic, you're sounding pretty naive, Tourist. Lawmakers routinely blow off these ideas. They're afraid that POed property owners will scream about their rights to sell out. Inevitably, historic zoning dies. Some mega-conglomerate buys up the property occupied by the quaint, independently owned shops and pubs, and jacks up the leasing fees. The shop owner can't make the payments and they shut down - then it's 'hello Starbucks' all over again.)

Sigh. This time, the editor speaks truths. Perhaps the Tourist singles out New Orleans because it's terrific when it is what it should be: A surreal slice of European style and attitude. Next week, the Tourist reveals how the sausage gets made when it comes to screwing up what makes a city great.

The Occidental Tourist is a magazine writer in Washington, DC. He writes for Maxim, Capital Style and ABCNews.com. His column appears on Tuesdays. E-mail him at tourist@ticked.com.