Hurricane Katrina, Frisco Red, and the Power of Collaboration
Nearly twenty years ago, I, like many of you, watched in horror as one of the most devastating hurricanes in U.S. history made landfall in Louisiana. The images of flooded streets, families stranded on rooftops, and entire neighborhoods washed away were seared into my memory. At the time, I was serving as the Emergency Manager at the Federal Reserve Bank in San Francisco. From over 2,000 miles away, I felt a deep calling to be part of the recovery work. It took me five years—and twelve interviews—but I was finally hired by FEMA to join the Louisiana Recovery Office in New Orleans as their External Affairs Director.
By the time I arrived in 2010, it was five years post-Katrina, yet the devastation was still very visible. Abandoned homes stood as daily reminders of loss, water lines stained into walls, and rescue markings remained painted across doors. I was determined to help tell the story of recovery and to spotlight the resilience of the people of Louisiana. But my determination was often bigger than my understanding.
Within just three days on the job, I earned the nickname “Frisco Red.” It wasn’t meant as a compliment. I had come from San Francisco, full of energy, optimism, and a little too much certainty in my own ideas. Add in my bright red hair, and the label stuck. It was a humbling reminder that while my intentions were good, I was walking into a community and a culture that had its own rhythms, history, and ways of healing. What I thought was helpful confidence came across as arrogance. It was the first of many lessons I learned about the importance of listening before leading.
Leadership Lessons from the Remarkable Mr. Threat
Much of my personal transformation came under the mentorship of my boss, Joseph Threat, then the Executive Director of the Louisiana Recovery Office and now the Chief Administrative Officer for the City of New Orleans. A decorated career US Marine Veteran, Joe’s family was personally impacted by Katrina, yet he chose to step in and help lead the recovery efforts.
Joe empowered me and my team to go into communities across Louisiana, not with answers, but with questions. We asked people directly how they wanted to rebuild. We sat in small-town council meetings, church basements, and school gyms, listening to voices that had been missing from recovery conversations for far too long.
Joe had a way of reminding us of perspective with what I came to call his “Threatisms”:
“Is there a grenade on the floor? If not, go out of my office, take a big breath, exhale, then come back in.”
“Be careful which doors you decide to kick in; they might just swing back and hit you.”
“It is better to learn how to take a punch than throw one.”
He taught me patience, humility, and the necessity of including every perspective at the table.
From Outsider to Collaborator
Under Joe’s leadership, we launched an unprecedented outreach campaign—hundreds of meetings with mayors, legislators, local leaders, and residents. To showcase and tell the story of the recovery efforts, we created publications, strengthened social media and web presence, and changed how FEMA was perceived. I will never forget when local media coined the acronym “TGFF” (“Thank God for FEMA”) or when then-Mayor Mitch Landrieu called FEMA his “best friend” in recovery.
Those moments were about far more than public relations. They were proof that collaboration, transparency, and respect can transform even the most broken trust.
Lessons That Still Guide Me
Today, I write this reflection from my small company office in Los Angeles, now working to support the recovery efforts from the January 2025 wildfires- LA County’s most devastating wildfires in its history. Two decades after Katrina, the lessons I learned in Louisiana remain my guide:
Always ask who’s missing from the table. Real recovery requires every voice, especially the ones too often left out.
Listen before leading. Communities know their needs better than any outside expert ever will.
Measure progress in trust, not just milestones. Groundbreakings and ribbon-cuttings matter, but so does the ability to look survivors in the eye and know they feel heard.
Stay humble. Recovery work isn’t about being the hero—it’s about walking alongside people as they rebuild.
Looking Back, Moving Forward
Hurricane Katrina changed me. It taught me that resiliency is not just about bouncing back—it’s about how we work together to move forward. Collaboration isn’t a box to check; it’s the foundation for real, lasting recovery.
Twenty years later, I remain grateful to Joe Threat, to my FEMA team, and most of all to the people of Louisiana who showed me the meaning of resilience. Their strength continues to inspire everything we do at The Resiliency Initiative.
Because in the end, recovery is not about knowing—it’s about listening.
