"Work as fast as you can to  help people get their lives together." Gerald Townsell scrutinizes debris pickup from the public right of way while planning the other ten things on his list. U. S. Army Photo.     Back to Features

Orleans will be 10 times better, because "good comes from bad"
By Dave Harris, Public Affairs, Louisiana Recovery Field Office

A lesser person would, by now, be exhausted. But Gerald Townsell keeps at it  –  singing, calling, observing, reporting, talking. “I’m a talker,” he admits. But check his schedule and one sees that he walks the talk.           

As quality assurance field supervisor in New Orleans’ West Bank, Gerald firmly but politely redirects a crew away from an easy debris pick-up and has them focus on the more unsightly mess 50 yards away in the public right-of-way.

During a break in his seven-day-a-week schedule, he takes a quick call from his pastor at the Church of God in Christ where he is chairman of the Board of Trustees. It’s a grounds maintenance challenge. Next month he goes to his church’s leadership conference in Orlando, Fla., on his own nickel – make that his own 20,000 nickels, an annual trek somewhere in the country he’s repeated at least six times.

Back to making sure QAs are checking licenses and paperwork. Someone’s truck has leaking equipment. Shut ’em down - temporarily.

Next free moment, probably late at night, get ready to play Santa at Memphis’ adopted school, Ford Elementary. Decide what to sing at the Christmas party.

Before that, a demo crew knocks a utility line down. Fill out another report.

Check the load ticket tally. More calls. Send in a report on 30-60-90-day planning. Finish the “this-week-next-week” report. Jot down an idea for after-duty preparation of a Bible lesson. Talk to Kenner. Talk to the resident engineer, Kevin Blair, about next week’s demolition schedule.

“Gerald likes being in charge,” Blair says. “He runs the West Bank. Everything runs smoothly. I hear about big problems, and there aren’t many of those, and so I don’t hear much from him.”

 Someone asks Gerald, “I understand you also sing in the choir.”

“No more,” he says. “I did.” He sighs. “It was getting a bit too much.”

Oh, he still sings. Just not in the choir anymore. Gerald is an operatic singer who studied at the Settlement Music School, Queen Village in Philadelphia, what locals call “South Philly.” More recently he sang male lead in Porgy and Bess and in “An Evening with George Gershwin.”

At church he and his trustees take people in and find them a place to stay, between overseeing grounds-keeping and church-building, with its checks, inspections, walk-throughs and financial draws for the contractors  –  “you name it.”

He helped establish GED – General Educational Development – programs through his church.

When home working for Memphis District, one moment Gerald orders 600,000 gallons of fuel for Memphis waterborne vessels after negotiating a 10-cent-per gallon discount. Next moment, he gets a call from a competitor.

“You didn’t order the fuel from me!”

“I got it for 10 cents a gallon cheaper,” Gerald replies. “That’s $60,000! I’m saving the government a lot of money.”

Whether at home or deployed, he’s just as busy. Just as driven. Gerald is maintenance mechanic supervisor, Yards and Docks unit, Plant Section, Physical Support Branch.

He’s been the Black Employees program manager since 1999.

He’s in charge of all fueling for Memphis District vessels.

He oversees the maintenance shop pulling wheels and shafts from bulldozers, front-end loaders and all manner of equipment.

He’s responsible for cleaning up and turning over the Jean Lafitte disposal site to Waste Management.

He runs safety meetings and conducts on-site assessments. Why? “To make it a little easier on contractors.”

He checks and double-checks buildings slated for demolition marks them and has them tested for asbestos-containing material.

A man on a mission – many missions, with skills crafted over 35 years working for the federal government.

“As a young kid of 14, I was a short-order cook at the Naval Hospital in Philadelphia,” he says. “I swabbed floors and helped patients carry their trays. I washed pots and helped make salads.”

Gerald quickly points out the benefits of such hard work for a young person, and swinging his elbows, he passionately demonstrates how he learned to properly maneuver a mop.

Multitasking and keeping so many plates in the air, he has no patience for foot-dragging, especially here in Louisiana.

 “I tell people you need to work as hard and as fast as you can to help people get their lives together,” he says. “I manage, the best I can, to work through every loophole to help people get on with their lives. We have to help them past the bottlenecks. It’s like basketball. Five players are trying to stop you, but your job is to make a basket.

“The people of Louisiana are really brave,” he says. “Near Jean Lafitte, I had bug spray and the mosquitoes were overwhelming. But even though the residents were beating them off, they acted like nothing was happening - like the mosquitoes were part of the family.”

Gerald claims a rapport with contractors he oversees.  “I listen to their concerns,” he says. “They’re happy working for the Corps. I tell them to save money, that there’s not much time to have a party.”

He says that most contractors are local. “They’re down-home people. I like the way they talk. I listen to them and it makes me feel good.”

The rapport pays off. “It makes it easy to tell them, ‘Fix the boards on the side of your truck.’ I tell them we’re all in this together in helping people move forward with their lives.”

Drive through New Orleans and the west bank and you cringe at the wind-blown and flooded homes and businesses. You hesitate taking pictures and hope you don’t add to the sparse residents’ already profound humiliation. Many think that all hope for a tolerable future is gone.

But Gerald, the hard-working man of faith, is visionary. Just when you’re feeling your sorriest for the historic place and people, Gerald utters an alternative view, exuding a never-say-die buoyancy.

“New Orleans will benefit from this disaster, because good happens from every bad thing that happens,” he says.

He tells of a New Orleans woman who moved to Seattle and is making five times more money than she ever did.

“She is so much better off, and it took the disaster to push her to do something for herself instead of being stuck in the mud,” he explains. “Something significant must happen to change someone’s mind sometimes.

“New Orleans will be 10 times better than it ever was,” he says with evangelistic fervor. “No doubt in my mind.”