Rebuilding Paradise

By NANCY GIBBS ST. CROIX

What happens to a land beloved for its beauty when the beauty is ripped away? The northeastern islands of the Caribbean, ringed by sugary beaches, plush with unlikely flowers, inspiring rummy tropical dreams, have become the American paradise. Even the license plates say so. Two months ago, when Hurricane Hugo mowed across the islands from Guadeloupe to Puerto Rico, it turned a landscape that was achingly lovely into one that was painfully bleak. In the case of St. Croix, where a large bomb could scarcely have done more damage, the looting and disorder that followed were as terrifying as the wicked winds. And now, as the high season approaches, those who love the islands and hope to return are left wondering: How much paradise was lost?

An army of insurance adjusters is still taking count, but most agree the damage figure will top $2 billion and could be twice that. Roaring from St. John to Puerto Rico, the hurricane stripped the voluptuous hills of every trace of green; it sent rooftops cartwheeling down the mountainsides and busted power lines and telephone poles, leaving the hillsides silent and dark. Given all this havoc, returning visitors these days will be amazed to see how quickly, riotously, the vegetation is growing back and how mightily residents have worked to clean up the mess.

But repairing the physical destruction is only the beginning; next comes the damage control. Dec. 15 marks the start of the high tourist season, and if tourists do not come back, neither will the islands. More than 10 million visitors came last year, leaving behind $7.3 billion. After Hugo, cancellations poured in, even for destinations not touched by the storm. "Part of our problem is fighting people's terrible knowledge of geography," says John Bell, executive vice president of the Caribbean Hotel Association. "There were groups dropping out of trips to Aruba and Barbados, which were hundreds of miles from Hugo's path." So even as an army of workers moved in, a phalanx of hoteliers and government officials set out to persuade the travel industry that there would be no trouble in paradise this winter.

On the islands that felt the storm's full force, the recovery is testimony to luck, resilience and private initiative. Among the few places with electric generators and food supplies, many hotels offered meals, showers and beds to the homeless and to relief workers who had come to help. Four Seasons Hotels sent 27 tons of food, medicine, clothing and chain saws to Nevis, where its new property is still under construction. Cruise ships in St. Thomas ferried stranded tourists out and supplies in. Despite about $10 million in damage, the luxury Virgin Grand resort on St. John was turned into a rescue center by general manager Jim St. John. In all he served about 15,000 meals, provided showers and transformed $595-a-night rooms into a health clinic that has treated more than 1,000 people.

Searching through the debris for blessings in disguise, hotel owners note that the disaster could have happened in high season rather than before it. In addition, the tragedy may help inspire local governments to repair the infrastructure properly, and then some. "Hugo has done for St. Thomas what nothing else could," says Hotel Association president Nick Pourzal. "Now they are planting, landscaping, spending the money to line the boulevards with bougainvillea. I've been trying to get this done for 15 years."

The sprucing up comes not a moment too soon. The resorts have been losing business to the cruise lines, which account for some 60% of the traffic to the U.S. Virgin Islands. Tourists with limited time or money to spend are choosing ships over land-based resorts as a better value. "The cruise business is just killing the island resorts," says Jim Cammisa, a Miami-based travel consultant. "Like it or not, Americans are not adventurous travelers. The ; cruise offers clean accommodations, good food and consistency."

So hotels have taken advantage of the storm, the insurance money and the low season to hasten renovations. By the end of October, most hotels on St. Thomas and St. John were ready for visitors. While the government boosted its advertising budget 54%, hoteliers even offered guests a money-back guarantee. "Everyone who comes down now is a town crier," says Tom Bennett of the St. Thomas-St. John Hotel Association. "We want them to go back and say how pleased they were."

But were they?

The first sight upon landing in St. Thomas is half a DC-3, broken like a baguette and tossed off to the side of the runway. Piles of debris remain lumped by the roadside in many places, but most streets are clear. This does not mean that traffic is exactly flowing, since stoplights are still broken. Most places now have electricity, but few have television, and the phones can be temperamental. But for the tens of thousands of tourists who tumble out of the cruise ships into Charlotte Amalie each week, the effects of the storm are almost hidden. Most of the jewelry shops along Main Street have reopened, to beguile passengers with special one-time-only sales that never end. Everywhere there are sounds of rebuilding. At the island's largest hotel, Frenchman's Reef, the hammering begins at 7:30 a.m., and the wind smells of hot tar. Guests by the pool don't seem to mind, but then many are insurance adjusters, with a special interest in heavy equipment.

Puerto Rico was equally hard hit, particularly on the islands of Culebra and Vieques. And yet, despite $1.3 billion in damage, "you can't even tell there was a hurricane here," beams tourist Emma Meadows of Richwood, W. Va. Shops and restaurants are open, highways are clear, and only 400 of the island's 8,500 rooms are still out of service. The conference rooms and lobby of the 570-room Condado Plaza have new windows, carpeting, light fixtures and furniture. Tree surgeons at the El San Juan are nursing the trademark poolside banyan tree back to life; the hotel even gained an extra 10 ft. of beach.

Nature, however, may not repair so quickly. Tourists venturing east toward El Yunque, the only tropical rain forest in the U.S. National Forest System, will see the destruction firsthand. The 40-ft. leafy cathedral that vaulted over the roads is now open to the sun, and once lush reaches of forest are bare, broken and brown. In the hardest-hit areas, 60% of the hardwood trees are gone, including huge mahoganies, and many of the rare Puerto Rican parrots have disappeared.

Some islands fared better in part by being prepared. On British Tortola the storm damaged about one-third of the homes, but power was back in many places by week's end. Reason: two years ago, the island began burying utility cables underground, where they would be less vulnerable in a bad storm. Telephone and electricity crews were already at work while the winds were still blowing at 60 m.p.h.; within the week most roads were clear.

It would have taken more than luck and preparation, however, to save St. Croix. The island suffered a cruel beating during the storm and in the days that followed. Like Montserrat, it felt the full force of 220-m.p.h. winds, which wiped out 9 out of 10 homes. Unlike Montserrat, it went on to be battered by national coverage of the looting and gunfire, of terrified tourists begging to escape. "It never dawned on me that there'd be looting," says Father Thomas O'Connor, whose parish, St. Patrick's, is in the heart of ransacked Frederiksted. The white-haired, blunt-spoken priest speculates on what it all means. "I think St. Croix, because of its beauty, will always attract tourists. But it better solve its own internal problems first. The schools, the hospitals, the infrastructure, the very fabric of the society has eroded. When St. Croix gets its house in order, people should come back."

Residents have suffered terribly since the storm -- and so has the island's image. Only last week did the last of the 1,100 military police sent down by President Bush withdraw, replaced by a 150-man unit of the Washington National Guard. Governor Alexander Farrelly, who after two months had yet to spend a night on the ravaged island, defends the move. "If we're talking about getting back on the tourist track," he says, "it doesn't become us to have an image of St. Croix as an island inhabited by soldiers."

Safe or not, St. Croix will simply not be ready for most tourists this winter. Power and phone service will not be restored until January at the earliest, and less than half of the 1,755 hotel rooms are usable. Many shops in Christiansted are still boarded, if there is anything left to board. "I want to see the tourists come back as much as anyone," says developer Jack Caldwell, "but to bring them down this winter would do more harm than good."

That said, the adventurous traveler, forewarned and content to be inconvenienced, will find plenty to see. Divers report a whole new underwater landscape to be explored. "The American public is not wimpish," says Leona Bryant, the government's director of tourism. "They're accustomed to disaster and adventure. You find people coming to gawk." Or if not to gawk, perhaps to listen and learn. "There's a camaraderie among people now," says Margery Boulanger, headmaster of St. Croix Country Day School, where the damage gave a whole new meaning to the notion of the open classroom. "Standing in line together, filling out forms, waiting for ice. I'd be surprised if tourists had a bad experience because of the hurricane."

A fair number of businessmen, at least, are willing to bet that she's right. Ritz-Carlton is proceeding with plans for a $140 million hotel on St. Croix scheduled to open in late 1992. Great Pond Bay Resorts just won approval for a $250 million project with 350 hotel rooms and 600 condos. If the islands all do struggle back, it may be because in the end Hugo could not destroy what most people come to the Caribbean to find. It could not make the sea less bright or the sun less clear, or bestir the starfish or break the spirits of the islands' hosts. The present flurry of activity may be at odds with the placid island tempo, but it reflects that most precious tourist commodity: the desire to please.

With reporting by James Carney/San Juan and Elizabeth Rudulph/New York