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Even for tourists, loss deep, personal

Past visitors recall the city's quirks and charm, and worry they might never again get the same taste of their beloved destination.

For Dick Boggs it was cuisine like sweet potato pecan pie.

Suzanne Pantle says it was the French Quarter's mimes, jugglers and street musicians.

For Barbara von Senger, it was the sweep of history embodied by the distinct Spanish and Gothic architecture.

For the 10-million tourists who visit New Orleans every year, it was all of that, and more, that made this city one of the strangest, coolest, most unforgettable destinations in the United States.

On Wednesday, as the catastrophic aftermath of Hurricane Katrina slowly unspooled, they waited nervously from afar for reports of what could be salvaged from city they cherished.

"I'm totally speechless," said von Senger, a Tampa travel agent who visited New Orleans more than 30 times in the past 10 years. "I have such a heartfelt connection to the place, and it's so overwhelming to see these images on TV."

The bond New Orleans made with its guests elevates this tragedy above the usual mourning for human misery that comes with other natural disasters. Unlike Midwestern floods or faraway tsunamis, this disaster jeopardizes a place that's a familiar haunt for visitors who savor the cobblestone roads, rickety wooden-seated streetcars and cast-iron railings of 19th century Creole homes.

"It's just awful thinking about all of this being swept away," said author Roy Blount Jr., whose book Feet on the Street: Rambles around New Orleans was published this spring. "It's sort of like an old frying pan that's never been soaked. It has the residue from a thousand meals. If that's ever washed out, you'll lose the flavor."

While it seemed historic New Orleans dodged much of the flooding that covered most of New Orleans, some of it already was destroyed or badly damaged by Wednesday.

The Commander's Palace, considered one of the top restaurants in the city and known for traditional Creole dishes like veal chops with grits, lost half its facade. Antoine's, the oldest-family run restaurant in the United States (est. 1840), lost a wall.

At Jackson Square, two longstanding oak trees were upended, yanking out an iron fence and pieces of a Jesus statue outside St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest active cathedral in the United States.

Magnolia trees destroyed a wall believed to contain human remains in the Garden District's Lafayette No. 1, an above-ground cemetery built around 1833 that is so Gothic that several scenes from Interview with a Vampire were shot there.

The 9th Ward, a low-income neighborhood usually avoided by tourists, was submerged. It is where the Battle of New Orleans was fought in 1815, and where Fats Domino lives.

Another neighborhood that's home to the arts community and where more adventurous tourists go also was submerged.

So much of New Orleans' future was in doubt that Fodor's Travel Publications was considering pushing back the October publication of its 2006 guide to the city, said William Travis, editor of that guide.

"We're watching and waiting to see how this will unfold," Travis said. "What makes me worry is that much of the city's charm is so crumbly and weathered. If they rebuild it and make it splashy and new, much will be lost."

Pantle, who visited New Orleans four times this year, said she regrets that she might never see it again the way she remembered.

"I just love the people so much," said Pantle, 42, of Oldsmar. "Many of those street performers are homeless and had no means to escape the storm. The city has survived so much. It's hard to believe that they may not have survived this."

Times researcher Cathy Wos contributed to this report, which includes information from the Los Angeles Times. Michael Van Sickler can be reached at 813 226-3402 or mvansickler@sptimes.com