But the best chunk of the speech he saved for the end. Bush promised that the cities of Gulfport, Biloxi and New Orleans would rise again, and their reincarnation would be even greater than before. Stately homes will return, he said. And he promised: "Streetcars will once again rumble down St. Charles, and the passionate soul of a great city will return."

Some engineers, urban planners and futurists are already talking of New Orleans as the first do-over of a great city in the 21st century. How different will it look from the old version? What should a new New Orleans encompass?

Now I don't design buffer zones or build suspension bridges, but I have been thinking since the Katrina catastrophe of what makes a great American city. What of their spirit? Which are greater than the sum of their parts, what is their gestalt?

New Orleans is a snap: great food, even better music, one big party. A place where they call you "cher" having never known you at all.

Oh bring it back please, bring all of that back. All of it gives that city its soul, and the rest of the country needs soul now more than ever.

You can name the obvious cities with soul, barely hesitating in the process. New York, San Francisco, Chicago, Seattle. Pick your favorite. Or add your own. Having drifted around to a few soulless cities in my lifetime, places where I often shuddered to put my return address on an envelope, I've given this matter great thought. At the very least, a great city ought to be a place where you can hold a parade. I've yet to find that spot anywhere in Orange County, Calif. Sorry, Disneyland doesn't count.

Salt Lake City long ago made my list of definable cities. Take the most obvious symbol - its mountains - and move outward from there. There was a reason the Mormon pioneers created Salt Lake City by nestling up against the Wasatch foothills. They offered a sense of protection, of warmth even in the coldest winters. Then, as now, mountains have the unique ability to both humble and energize a person - and usually in the same outing.

What else? Vistas. Blue skies. Sunsets lingering over the Great Salt Lake. As a child of the West transplanted in Texas years ago, I chased the vistas I longed for in the fabled Hill Country, land of the LBJ Ranch and fields of wild blue- bonnet flowers. What passed for elevation there? Something like 2,500 feet. Sad.

What else? A city with a worldwide church headquarters gives it identity. Like it or not, and I know I'll hear from some of you on this, the LDS Church gives this city a gut, a character. You may disagree with the political and cultural power the church wields, but as in all great cities, there has to be at least one major stakeholder. I watched one of Texas' premier oil families, the Basses, almost single-handedly breathe life into a dying downtown Fort Worth in the early '90s. They had the money, power and interest to pull strings necessary to energize the place. It's a cow town, all right, and folks are proud of it.

Ditto for the LDS church. Grouse about its control if you like, but give it ample credit for keeping a clutch on downtown. The Gateway may be king of West Side fun and commerce now, but with church leaders, city planners and preservationists working in tandem, don't count out downtown yet.

That's character. That's soul. Some cities have it. Count us in.

hmullen@sltrib.com