Contractors spin money out of thin air at New Orleans' Municipal Auditorium: James Gill


"Magical" is a word that was often applied to the Municipal Auditorium back when Carnival krewes used it for their balls and tableaux.

But the transformation of stodgy burghers into glittering monarchs was child's play compared to the wonders the auditorium can work today.

The joint has lain in ruins since Katrina, but its hidden treasures make it a veritable Aladdin's cave. No genie is required, because, so long as Ray Nagin is mayor of New Orleans, the auditorium can spin wealth out of thin air.


The work performed under MWH's supervision was imaginary, but it was extensive. MWH's fee represents 6.5 percent of renovation costs.

Not only was that work never done, but we discovered Monday that plans to restore the auditorium, with artists' studios, production companies, a culinary institute and various other creative delights, have been shelved.

As luck would have it the only bid when the city sought management expertise for the project was a group of Nagin's friends led by developer Stewart Juneau, whose services would doubtless have been a bargain at $280 an hour. His partners included Irvin Mayfield, who blows such a mean horn that Nagin put him in charge of the public libraries.

Another was Bernardo Wade, whose best known mission in life has been to take photographs of Nagin, but who turned out to have a hidden talent for "community outreach" and legal compliance. It was enough to make all but the most cynical believe in magic.

But there are always cynics among us, and playing the role on this occasion was the city's Inspector General, Ed Quatrevaux, who had a more down-to-earth explanation, citing "bid-rigging" and "potential collusion." A deal must be square to suit Quatrevaux, and he called this one an "abject waste." The Juneau group had landed a "contract for nothing."

Quatrevaux had the advantage of being right, but that does not count for much with a lame-duck mayor looking to reward his supporters at public expense. Nagin, ignoring objections from all sides, remained determined to ram the deal through until Juneau up and announced Monday that he was "suspending" negotiations with the city. That probably means the deal is dead, and the city has been spared a small part of Nagin's valedictory spending spree.

Why the deal was abandoned is impossible to say, but it was not because Nagin was shamed into withdrawing his support. When Nagin displays a sense of shame, we will know that the age of miracles has arrived.

OK, the auditorium is not really magic, for MWH could evidently conjure money out of a bottle anywhere. In fact, if MWH could work as fast as it can invoice, the recovery would have been about 18 percent further advanced by now, according to City Hall's own analysis.

But enough of this dreary workaday stuff. Let us get back to that enchanted world where anything can happen.

There was that time when the city asked companies to nominate an individual to handle "Public Infrastructure Management Services" for $150,000 a year. By the time the search was over, MWH had a contract in its pocket worth $48 million.

Only witchcraft can explain such a dramatic transmogrification. When Quatrevaux's sleuths "asked City officials in an interview to explain the rationale," it appears that no satisfactory answer was forthcoming.

Now Nagin is running around granting contract extensions that, if they do not leave the city broke, will hogtie the Mitch Landrieu administration for years. Landrieu has asked Nagin to run the city more responsibly in his last several weeks, but we seem to be out of miracles for now.
