Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
of the refineries has kept anyone with money from moving back. The result is a community
that's among the poorest and most polluted in the nation—yet surrounded by multibillion-
dollar companies. It's the perfect place to refine oil, incinerate toxic waste, and expand a
petrochemical plant: a place where they're used to it. A place already so dominated by in-
dustry that nobody who matters will care.
The neighborhood to the north and west of downtown is poor and black. There are roofs
still dressed with blue FEMA-issued tarps to cover damage from hurricanes of years past.
I saw one FEMA tarp that had itself been repaired with another FEMA tarp. Beyond them
towered the metal thickets of the refineries.
The best place to sit down for lunch in central Port Arthur—possibly the only place—is
a soul food restaurant called Kelley's Kitchen. With its orange awning and hand-painted
purple sign, it stands like an oasis among the vacant lots and boarded-up buildings. Inside,
there is a single room with a painted concrete floor, a half-dozen tables, and a counter and
stools in back. A young woman named Daisha served me shrimp, okra, and sausage over a
pile of rice, with a pair of turkey wings and corn bread on the side.
Kelley's Kitchen was no mere restaurant. It was the latest venture from Hilton Kelley,
Port Arthur's leading environmental activist and all-around force of nature. Soul food is
not typically a part of the environmental agenda, but Kelley took a holistic approach. “I'm
about creating job opportunities,” he said, as I buried my face in okra. “I'm about serving
the community. I'm about encouraging young people to get business licenses, to do things
that will help them get off the streets. 'Cause these streets will kill you faster than the pol-
lution.”
A tall, ample man in his early fifties, Kelley had an energy that was both generous and
pugnacious. Above all, he was a man with hustle. When I first found him, he was sitting
at a table working on his laptop while eating lunch; moments later he was outside with a
crew of helpers, hauling a pair of heavy wooden stalls to a spot in front of his restaurant. In
preparation for the upcoming Mardi Gras parades—the only time of year when central Port
Arthur sees some life—Kelley was planning to sell “food and hats and whatnot” to pass-
ersby. Moments after that, we were back inside the restaurant and Kelley was pointing out
the new dance floor, off to one side. “I love dancing. That's why I built me a dance floor.”
He was an experienced carpenter, and power tools littered the cab of his pickup truck.
But above all, he had devoted himself to picking environmental fights in Port Arthur.
His organization, the Community In-power and Development Association, had recently
blocked the importation of PCBs from Mexico to a nearby incinerator. It had also fought
the Motiva refinery expansion, holding it up and forcing concessions from the company on
monitoring and community investment.
