Evacuees at Rowan are happy it's over

No one looked back.

As the 1,100 Hurricane Irene evacuees at Rowan University boarded 50 NJ Transit buses Sunday afternoon to return to their hometown of Atlantic City, most of them could think of only two things: a shower and a home-cooked meal.

Three days of being stuck inside a gymnasium with hundreds of strangers from all walks of life is an experience that some embraced, others hated, and all left exhausted.

"It finally caught up to me," said a deflated Clarence Manyfield, sitting on a foldout chair. Until that time he had kept up his spirits with the help of his wife, Matty, and an entourage of friends.

The evacuees and about 200 volunteers had called the Esbjornson Gymnasium at Rowan University home this weekend during the storm. It was a designated Red Cross emergency shelter - the first in New Jersey to open, at noon Friday. The start of university classes was pushed back a week.

It also was Rowan's first time being activated as a shelter. Its rookie mistakes - such as unorganized meal distributions the first two days - led to some frustrations among the evacuees.

But the large number of people Rowan agreed to house quickly drew the attention of area volunteers, lifting some of the burden from the Red Cross and Rowan to keep the people fed, dry, and - in some cases - entertained.

The arrival of the masses - 25 busloads within an hour of the shelter's opening - took the Rowan and Red Cross staffs by surprise.

"We assumed people would come in their cars," university spokesman Joe Cardona said.

Once officials assessed the population, which included a lot of senior citizens, children, and people on dialysis and with diabetes, they started contacting hospitals to help with supplies and medications.

Kennedy Memorial Hospital staff made about 24 trips to drop off items, said senior vice president Joseph Devine.

Most people at the shelter said they had no option other than evacuating their homes. Manyfield said everyone from his building - Inlet Tower, public housing for seniors and disabled - had to get on the bus.

When they first arrived, Manyfield, his wife, and four friends sat in foldout chairs along the wall of the gym. As the place got increasingly packed, people looked around slightly bewildered.

"Staying in a gym with thousands of people? That's not so nice," Manyfield said.

Most people packed a change of clothes and some snacks, but others, such as Manyfield's friend Maurice McCoy didn't have time to pack anything.

By Saturday night, he kept asking almost every volunteer if there were any donations of size-42 shorts. He finally got a pack of new pajamas from Islamic Relief USA volunteers.

During the day, people found ways to stay busy, whether watching television, reading a book, or chatting with family and friends.

They learned quickly to ignore or make friends with their green-cot neighbors a few inches away. Cots were lined up all across the gymnasium and recreation hall with signs on the wall signaling areas for men, women, or families. For the most part, the signs were disregarded, but no one seemed to complain.

Police officers broke up some minor fights, but no one was arrested or ejected from the premises, Cardona said.

"I thought it went very well for the clientele we had," Red Cross facility manager Terry Chrivia said.

Shelter conditions did not appeal to some of the evacuees.

When officials announced it was time to go home, Tareia Newby, 30, threw her belongings into a bag and dashed out the door to be first in line.

"I'm not waiting another second in there," Newby said.

She had complained earlier about the slim sandwiches served for lunch and dinner and the lack of juice for the children. Her four children are used to hearty meals, she said.

"I'll risk staying at home next time," she said. "I appreciate having a roof over our heads, but they could have done a better job organizing."

Chrivia said the shelter had the needed supplies and then some: "We have candy to feed all these kids for the next 10 years."

But the coordination of supply distribution and volunteers was a little rough at times. "It is what it is," he said. "It's a disaster zone."

The "disaster" was lost on many of the children, who often didn't even notice the furious rain and wind outside.

Almost all the children were entertained by arts and crafts that volunteers had set up or toys people donated, such as a robot that Newby's son, Elijah, 3, received.

Entertainment for the adults included a jazz duo that played for about an hour after dinner Saturday.

Some of the elderly women were not shy about gathering around the band and tapping their canes, or, like Mildred Gibbs, swinging their hips to the sound of the saxophone and keyboard.

"When you're 73, you have to enjoy your exercise," Gibbs said. With a giant smile, she admitted this was the highlight of her night. She said she used to dance to "Satin Doll" when she was in her 30s.

Trying to get more people dancing, the jazz players walked around the recess area of the gymnasium. People clapped and danced a little. Then Elijah, shirtless and with short dreadlocks, ran and sat at the keyboard, looking like a miniature Bob Marley.

At times like that, people forgot the storm and enjoyed the late-night entertainment.

Not understanding the words but enjoying the atmosphere, Andrea DiDomenico, a Chilean native who speaks little English, sat next to and smiled right along with Gibbs and a few other elderly women.

Her 5-year-old daughter, Melanie, played nearby with other children.

Once the jazz band was done, some of the teenagers and young adults brought out laptops and played hip-hop music videos. They also broke out into raps and songs that incorporated the shelter or Hurricane Irene.

"We be at the shelter, we getting down," they sang, while laughing.

By 2 a.m., only a few people were awake.

Lights were back on at 7, and many were ready to go home, dreading another day without a bath or a warm meal.

Once home, "first I'll investigate the situation, then I'm going to relax, take a shower, check the refrigerator and answering machine," Clarence Manyfield said.

Then maybe he and his wife would cook a warm meal.