Whites challenged Katrina settlements more
“My husband didn’t want to be bothered. I asked him, ’Why don’t we sue the insurance company?’ He said, ’They ain’t gonna do nothing no way.’ White just decided they was gonna go file. Black, we just gave up easier.”
The Kitchens didn’t have flood insurance but their dispute with the insurer was over damage in their attic, where winds ripped off the roof.
At first, Richard and Cindy Little didn’t fare much better.
Four towering pine trees crashed into their tidy ranch-style home in Slidell, a predominantly white bedroom community north of New Orleans.
The crashing limbs unleashed a cascade of water that spoiled the walls, soaked the hardwood floors and brought puffs of pink insulation tumbling from the ceiling.
When their insurer agreed to pay only two-thirds of the cost of the repairs, the Littles used their savings to cover the cost of the construction — then began battling Allstate, the state’s No. 2 insurer, over the final settlement.
They wrote letters to congressmen, secured copies of an adjuster’s report, spent hours compiling receipts, made countless phone calls and filed a complaint with insurance regulators.
Eventually, their efforts paid off, but they acknowledge the fight wasn’t easy and that the family’s finances played a large role in their perseverance.
“We had money in the bank so we could wait them out,” said Cindy Little, 50. “We could wait to get what’s owed.”
“It’s kind of scary to think of fighting a big corporation,” added Richard Little. “I can see how people with not as much money, education, take what’s given them.”
Mike Trevino, a spokesman for Northbrook, Ill.-based Allstate, said the state agency had treated minority and white homeowners equally. The figures obtained by AP support his contention.
In cases where Louisiana insurance regulators were able to get more money from insurers for homeowners, the amount for minorities and whites was roughly the same: about $40,000.
But Trevino also acknowledges that the insurer was overwhelmed by the scope of the disaster that led half of its 300,000 Louisiana customers to file claims.
“It could be that there were mistakes, that it wasn’t a good performance by the adjuster. But what’s important to remember is that it was then, and still is, an extraordinary event ... and it certainly did stretch our ability to serve customers in the very best way possible,” Trevino said.
Though there was no disparity in the outcome of state complaints, the racial divide is clearly apparent in who accessed the system and how often they did so.
In New Orleans, where blacks made up two-thirds of the 454,863 pre-Katrina population, only about 445 homeowners resolved complaints with the state department. In contrast, the mostly white residents in the suburb of Slidell resolved more complaints (489) even though New Orleans’ population is 16 times larger.
Minority distrust in government also shows up in polling. AP-Ipsos polls taken shortly after the hurricane last year showed 56 percent of minorities said they doubted the government could really help them during a disaster.
Alan Jenkins, a former Justice Department official in the Clinton administration who lobbies for minority opportunities, said AP’s analysis reinforces a little-discussed reality exposed by Katrina.
“The promise of opportunity isn’t equally available,” he said. “Race and income has made a big difference in people’s ability to start over.”
Jenkins said state and federal agencies need to adopt different techniques to reach historically disadvantaged neighborhoods.
Aloyd Edinburgh, who lives not far from the Kitchens in the Lower Ninth Ward, exemplifies the problem.
The 75-year-old retired cab driver said he doesn’t have much use for insurers or state regulators. All around him are signs of abandoned battles — buckled homes, distorted cars, hip-high weeds and the smell of decay.
Edinburgh’s insurer gave him $35,000 out of a policy worth $85,000. He is slowly and painstakingly repairing his gutted house, sleeping in a trailer parked in his driveway. Like many in his neighborhood, he didn’t know the state could help. But like many neighbors, he has little faith — and at his age — little time.
“The best thing I can do is take the money I did receive and go to work,” says the old man, his eyes clouded with cataracts. “Am I satisfied? Hell, no, I’m not satisfied ... Am I mad? Hell, yeah, I’m mad. But to complain about it. What’s the use?”
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