When Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf coast on the morning of August 29, 2005, New Orleans musician Sammy Naquin was riding out the storm at his fiancée’s house in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, about a hundred miles to the north.

“Good Lord…I don’t know that I could tell you what was the worst of it all anymore.” His friendly Cajun twang trails off as he plays back scenes from the ordeal. “When we thought it was all over with, the eye had passed over us. And then it sounded like a sports car speeding up—just downshifting and taking off again. And it just ripped everything to nothing. The walls started shaking and we had to bust holes in the sheet-rock in the ceiling just to let the water through to keep it from collapsing on us.”

They survived the fury that ripped their roof off, but in the days that followed, things got steadily worse. The drinking water they’d saved in the bathtub drained out while they slept, and with only a couple gallons worth for eight to 10 days, they were eventually forced to sneak into neighbors’ yards and drink from swimming pools. This took place in sweltering heat with no electricity for things like lights or air conditioning. People were driven mad.

“They were shootin’ people over there. This guy shot his sister for the last bag of ice. They were just losin’ it. So, the mayor [of Hattiesburg] said, ‘If you can get out of here, get out of here. It’s not safe.’” Naquin’s voice still carries a tone of disbelief as he recounts these events from a year and a half ago.

Before all this, Naquin had spent 20 years building up to a steady gig in New Orleans’ French Quarter, in a place at the corner of Toulouse and Bourbon. A place where a musician’s workweek can consist of three shifts, seven days a week—and often did for this Cajun accordionist who’d been brought up on the bayous of South Louisiana.

It would be over six weeks before they made it back to New Orleans. There he and his fiancée, Debra Wilson (who plays keyboards in his band) found their other home wrecked with mold that quickly went on to cause bronchial problems for them both.

With their hometown in ruins, they, like hundreds of thousands of others, were as desperate to escape as they were heartbroken to leave. A fortunate phone call landed work for Wilson near Seneca Falls, New York. Since it seemed close to Maine, and Naquin’s Acadian (Cajun) roots, it seemed worth a try. They’ve since bought a house there. The musical career is starting to bounce back, too. He leaves with his squeezebox for a string of club and corporate dates back in New Orleans in a couple of weeks.

But first, Sammy Naquin and the Zydeco Whips are set to stir up the house at Lafayette Tap Room on Fat Tuesday. For all of us who love New Orleans but can’t be there this Mardi Gras, for whatever reason, this will be the place to let the good times roll.

—buck quigley