The Outer Banks Bar is demolished this afternoon. Photo courtesy Brad Vogel, Inside the Footprint.

Going into this week, Greg Guth knew the forces of the world were lined up against the Outer Banks Bar. But the demolition of his Lower Mid-City watering hole – and the end of a protracted, but ultimately fruitless court battle over a piece of land the state wants to clear for a new hospital complex – came to pass much faster than he expected.

On Monday, the state seized the building. By this morning, demolition crews were removing the siding, in preparation for its certain fate. By the end of the day, the building was reduced to rubble.

Even after a dramatic scene outside the building Monday afternoon in which the bar's possessions were left on the side of the street, Guth didn't sound resigned last night.

“Ultimately the building's gone, it's just when it's gone,” the owner of the Lower Mid-City watering hole at S. Tonti and Palmyra said Tuesday night. His tone reflected the frazzled mood he said he was in, but he didn't seem to be defeated.

Guth's statement could echo throughout the entire neighborhood that is currently being demolished to make way for a hospital complex that will house the state's LSU teaching hospital, and the federal government's local VA Medical Center. The hospital will span from Canal St. west to Tulane Ave., and S. Claiborne Ave. north to S. Rocheblave St.

Whatever better monetary compensation or house-moving scheme could be proposed, the end result of dwellers' appeals and cajoles was always destined to be the same. A neighborhood full of iconic New Orleans houses and commercial buildings, rebuilt by many of their owners following the devastation of the 2005 flood, would be reduced to a field.

Guth's particular plight has been ongoing since the fall, when demolition started in the neighborhood. As houses all around the bar started to fall, he challenged the eviction order.

The state took properties from business owners through a legal process known as expropriation, which, despite the forced hand of government order behind the proceedings, requires agreement between both parties before a property changes hands. Once the expropriation is complete and money changes hands, the state gets title to the property to begin demolition.

But Guth, a former lawyer, refused to go along with the proceedings, and filed an appeal of the expropriation on behalf of the bar manager, Nicole Heltz.

As the appeal went through the trial courts and state appeals court, drinks kept flowing. By turns, the regulars kept coming in. The ramshackle bar played host to Sunday Saints games, a jazz funeral to send off the neighborhood and a pair of farewell shows played by local punk bands who booked frequent shows at the bar.

Despite the sense of dread that formed the backdrop to the proceedings, there was something cavalier about the site. All of the other nearby buildings were gone, but, somehow, one had survived. 
 

Another farewell show was planned for this weekend, until the state plucked Guth's tightrope Monday. After a hearing, the Louisiana Appeals Court 4th circuit denied his challenge last week, leaving open the possibility that the state would begin demolition.

To stop demolition and buy himself time to take his case to the Louisiana Supreme Court, Guth got a temporary restraining order. But to be made permanent, the restraining order would have had to be turned into a more permanent court action, which was denied Monday morning.

Though he had papers in with the Supreme Court Monday morning and wasn't shy about his intentions to keep the case going, the state pushed forward with their intentions for the property.

With authority to demolish the building in hand, the state called the constable – who enforces demolition proceedings – to seize the building.

“They broke in and started putting the stuff on the street,” Guth said.

As patrons, contractors and New Orleans police gathered at the scene, things escalated to what Brad Vogel, who has been covering the demolition for his blog “Inside the Footprint,” called “a crazy scene.”

Vogel said the contractors were going through the back of the building, while patrons stood outside.

Seeing her belongings being dragged on the street, Heltz, the bar manager, was getting in workers' faces, confronting them about taking her belongings, Vogel said.

“At the end of it, the contractors put the boards up on the windows, and drilled the door shut,” he said.

Guth said the state was being presumptuous by acting before the Supreme Court even had a chance to rule.

State spokesman Michael Diresto said Monday's court action was enough for demolition to move forward.

“The state has been very patient with this tenant, who previously agreed to vacate the premises in early December,” he said today. “The tenant did make an “emergency appeal” to the Fourth Circuit Monday, and the appeal was denied  the very same day.  We must move forward with providing health care for Louisiana veterans.

Last night, Guth held out hope that the Supreme Court could still rule in his favor, and the bar could reopen.

But by this morning, all of the situational frustrations were rendered moot. Word came through that the state's highest court had denied Guth's appeal.

“I went by this morning and they were starting to strip the siding off,” he said, now speaking as though he were on the losing end.

Reports followed that the garage had been demolished, and the inevitable moment seemed to have come to pass. Guth said he wouldn't be in attendance when the building fell.

“You can't stop progress,” he said.

Minutes ago, Vogel sent NoDef a message that the building was demolished.

“That was really the heart of the little community between Rocheblave and Galvez that has been extinguished, and it's sad,” he said yesterday.

More photos of the demolition are posted at Inside the Footprint.