The inner life of a city gets dragged to the curb

"It's a huge pile of debris now, but it wasn't too long ago when this was someone's life," says Mr. Cleary, swatting at flies.

The fact that this was once a landfill that was covered over and is again being used to store millions of tons of new debris is a major environmental concern, says Erik Olson, an attorney with the Natural Resources Defense Council who has been to New Orleans to survey the situation.

"Significant disposal went on there for many years, and once you add additional weight on top of that, it acts like a leaking sponge," he says. "It's already leaching into the soil."

He's heard reports that some of the trash is being burned outside the city - though the corps denies that - and believes incineration will become the preferred method once the debris really starts mounting.

Everyone agrees the cleanup will be lengthy, and while city officials are encouraging residents to return, they are also warning them to take extra caution when entering their mold-filled homes.

By now, everyone knows their first order of business is to tape shut their refrigerator and haul it outside. Do not peek inside. In fact, curbside fridges have become the newest billboards, with a wide variety of political and humorous messages spray-painted across them. "Katrina victim" and "FEMA, where are you?" are just two.

Because most city residents aren't back yet, plenty of trash is yet to come. Collectors say they often will do a sweep of a street and come back the next day to find more piles.

And that is just the debris from the inside. Many homes will need to be demolished altogether, creating continued work for those who want it.

As it turns out, plenty of people do. The smell of money is wafting from those foul, fly-filled heaps, and hundreds of new workers come from around the country each day to participate in the cleanup.

Marcus Skaggs is one of them. He leans out the window of a dump truck he's waiting to register, and explains he's here for one reason.

"The money," says Mr. Skaggs, a carpenter from Florida. His truck carries 35 cubic yards of trash and averages about 10 loads per day. At $7 a yard, that's $2,450 a day for one truck.

He expects to be here for a couple of years, first picking up trash and then demolishing homes and carting them off.

"Just the smell driving in, it's putrid," he says. "But I'll be here as long as the money's good."

Skaggs is far back in a seemingly endless line of trucks their drivers hope to register for work, and most wait at least 24 hours to do so. After their trucks pass inspection, drivers must get immunized, go through safety training, and get assigned to a subcontractor and sector.

They work from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. seven days a week, and are living in tents, travel trailers, and the cab of their trucks on the west side of City Park.

Most are veterans of other disaster-recovery missions, but Steven Broussard, who has been in the area since just after hurricane Katrina hit, says it still gets to him occasionally.

"Seeing kids' toys piled up, that's the hardest," says the sturdy Texan. "People's lives are on the curb."

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