Mobile’s ever-present and colorful skyline has served as a beacon of normalcy over the last week, a captivated viewer looking down at the gathering dark on the streets below.

Instead of music cutting through the mild spring evenings, that would normally guide happy people from bar to bar on the city’s infamous Dauphin Street, the eerie electrical hum from streetlights has become the theme tune to unprecedented times.

The unsettling roar of car tires can be heard blocks away on Government Street, while singular shadowy figures cross the normally well-trodden nighttime sidewalks.

Like much of the country, Mobile has been forced to stagger forward in its fight against the continued spread of coronavirus, or COVID-19. Those fumbling first steps, similar to other cities and states in this country, have been reluctant at times, but have happened anyway. And while most people continue to work from home or in an office, there is an army of dedicated people whose lives have become intrinsically linked with the mood of this city - one that was born to celebrate.

“As the days pass and the shock wears off, sadness is settling in its place,” said Damia Petrie, who works at Willie’s Place on Francis Street and Cotton State BBQ, also downtown. “I’m in an industry that I consider a family. From my boss, to my coworkers, to my regular crowd, everyone I work with is a crucial part of my life. Being away from them has been a bigger shock to my system and mentality than the substantial financial concerns. I’ve had everyone on my mind almost constantly. I miss the friends I spent my nights laughing with, and I’m worried for my coworkers who I love dearly and are also displaced right now. And I just miss the feeling of working in a community of fellowship and camaraderie.”

Petrie is not alone in her understandable fears for the future and the separation anxiety she is experiencing after being cut off from one of her support groups. If Mobile’s bar and restaurant industry is this city’s beating heart, Dauphin street and other smaller entertainment areas are surely one of the most important blood vessels feeding it. They generate valuable income for the city, while also providing an important service to its citizens and the growing tourism sector. They support events all year long, including about two months of Mardi Gras.

While it may be too soon or even too hard to predict the personal damage being inflicted on the lives of people working in the service industry, the hard numbers are starkly transparent. Retail sales tax flowing into the city is expected to decrease by 20 percent over what will very likely be a vulnerable 60 days, according to city estimates. Restaurant sales will see an 80 percent drop, stripping the city of money it uses to operate services for citizens. Overall, the city is bracing for a 30 percent shortfall in revenues. But cities, much like banks, are too big and important to fail. Sure, a city can go bankrupt, but it’s not going to disappear.

Mobile will bounce back one way or another. But the private businesses that rely on people spending money don’t have that luxury. The city’s service industry is full of success stories, but also many failures - all resigned to a footnote in the history of this 318-year-old city. That is the current fear for owners.

“I’m not terribly worried if we’re going to be closed for a month or two,” said Naude Gouws, owner of the Haberdasher bar at the foot of Dauphin Street. “We can cover that. But if it drags on for six months or longer, that’s where we’ll start seeing the real carnage.”

Gouws had a team of about 17 people working for him, most on a per-hour basis.

“In the days leading up to us closing down, you could see the panic and stress in the eyes of my staff,” he added. We have employees that all of a sudden have no income, except for the few salaried managers. Broke my damn heart, man. The sad thing to me is that most of the people in this industry live paycheck to paycheck. S**t, a lot of them live shift to shift.”

10 Empty Mobile

The difficult choices Gouws has had to make with furloughing his staff mirror those being made by service industry employees across the city. Without tips, those who live on the fringes have to now choose where their valuable money is best spent.

“It is sad to say, this is America,” said Jamie Marie Ellis, who works at Moes BBQ. “Choosing between health insurance and other important finances during a global health crisis.”

Tyger Bullock, who worked at Alchemy Tavern in downtown Mobile, said that her husband still being in a job has helped but she fears for industry colleagues. “My husband and I have stocked up on food and essentials, not 500 rolls of TP,” she said. “We are trying to prepare for a long haul and hope to have enough to help our loved ones and neighbors. Currently the vibe is trying to stay upbeat even if you are personally freaking the hell out. This is what the service industry is built for, maintaining calm in the face of chaos while constantly adapting to change.”

For those not out of a job, it’s hard to fathom the peril people are in when the weather is beautiful and flowers spring from their yards. Bars and restaurants are closed, but in that there has also been innovation. Curbside pickups and to-go orders have created a new daytime social scene, one that exists on the sidewalk and in parks.

“Living in a walkable community such as Downtown Mobile has allowed people to get out to walk their dog or ride their bike to support their favorite local establishments,” said Taylor Atchison, owner of the recently opened Ice Box bar. “For the first time in a while people are off their phones and actually interacting with others – 6 feet apart, of course.”

“We have worked hard the last few days to provide curbside service selling safe and sealed frozen drinks and have been successful in doing so with the help of our friends and neighbors,” he added.

Downtown Mobile has undergone a dramatic transformation over the last four years. Previously empty storefronts have morphed into classy cocktail bars and award-winning restaurants. Old abandoned factories, once the lifeblood of this historic port city, are now homes for young professionals. The streets are clean and safe. Mobile Police Department recently opened a new precinct to deal with the new flow of people.

Today, walking through the city is like a journey through unnerving stillness.

A calm before the storm, perhaps.