Proclamation of Rex, King of Carnival, 1967: “It is hereby decreed that…
the spirit of make-believe descend upon the realm and banish from the land the…
the commonplace of daily existence.”
Mardi Gras Float
Mardi Gras in New Orleans is the greatest free show on earth: cool parades, hot jazz, incredible entertainment and spectacular fireworks. There’s no admission charge for the romance and adventure of a city where the Old World and the New carouse together in the moonlight. What’s more, it’s easy. You don’t have to know much to celebrate carnival in the Big Easy; you just have to be here to have fun.
Still, we’ve got a float-load of information to set the scene, just for the fun of it. Because that’s what the revels are about.
Mardi Gras is French for “Fat Tuesday.” Strictly speaking, it’s the day before the start of Lent, a period of fasting and penitence when Catholics traditionally renounce the pleasures of the flesh. Faced with impending abstinence from meat and other indulgences, societies around the world have reacted like convicted criminals offered a last meal.
Carnival literally means “farewell to meat,” and some cultures (New Orleans among them) spend more time indulging beforehand than they do atoning afterwards. Venice, Rio de Janeiro, and Swiss, German, Belgian, and French communities dance, drink and sing their way through elaborate pre-Lenten festivities which sometimes include parades or bals masques (masked balls).
The Crescent City, however standsalone: nowhere else is Mardi Gras celebrated on the scale or with the elaborate abandon of New Orleans. The Mardi Gras season of masking, mystery and merriment begins for New Orleans residents twelve days after Christmas on January 6.
Since medieval times, Twelfth Night has culminated the holiday season of rejoicing with masked balls and wild revelry. But to those who celebrate Carnival, it’s just the beginning of a new season of delights. In New Orleans, it kicks off a whirl of private and public balls, parties, parades and general festivities which last through Mardi Gras evening.
And when is Mardi Gras? It falls sometime between February 3 and March 9, depending on the Spring Equinox, which determines Easter, which in turn fixes Lent, which is the whole reason for Mardi Gras. Got that? Never mind. We’ve got the dates for you. The key here is that the parades begin in earnest about 12 days before Mardi Gras, and carnival takes over the city non-stop beginning the Saturday before Mardi Gras. Expect an unimaginable four days of music and madness, parades and parties unlike anywhere else on Earth.
Mardi Gras Jester
The Lundi Gras (the day before Mardi Gras) celebration at Spanish Plaza, where the mayor gives Rex the keys to New Orleans, is sponsored by the city. Everything else— all Carnival parades and balls— are sponsored by private organizations, most of which are known as krewes, a variation of the word “crew.” Both the concept and the word were created in 1857 by the first New Orleans carnival organization, the Mystick Krewe of Comus.
While some organizations are well over a century old, krewes are continually forming and disbanding. The number of carnival groups now hovers in the 70 plus range.
Old-guard krewes like Comus, Momus, Proteus and Rex still cloak their membership in mystery, a reminder of the Masonic traditions initiated by the earliest krewe members. For instance, the identity of Rex is kept secret until Mardi Gras morning, and the names of the kings of Comus are never revealed.
Mystery and tradition lie behind the maskers, costumes, floats, balls and the whole ambiance of Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
Since all krewes are private, non-profit groups, member dues pay for the floats, costumes, throws, and usually the balls. No commercial or corporate sponsorship of any Carnival parade or ball is allowed; that way, Mardi Gras remains free of commercial annoyances, leaving everyone free to enjoy the entertainment. Hence, many reasons to call Mardi Gras the greatest free show on earth.
There is never any general theme for Carnival. Krewes choose their own yearly themes, often from colorful mythology, fairytales, children’s lit, and local and pop cultures. But anything goes, and each krewe takes a different path. Orpheus, co-founded by musician Harry Connick, Jr., always comes up with a music-oriented theme. For Zulu, Krewe du Vieux and Krewe d’Etat, parody and satire are their raison d’etre, and political and social themes are fodder for their statements afloat.
Early Mardi Gras organizations were more homogeneous. Strictly white, they took themselves and their fun seriously. One of the first real departures from tradition came with the freewheeling black Zulu Social Aid & Pleasure Club in 1909. Calling themselves “The Tramps,” they marched through the streets in raggedy pants following a king sporting a lard can crown and a banana leaf scepter. The Tramps both mocked and epitomized Carnival tradition. Eventually they morphed into Zulu and were known for their parody themes, grass skirt outfits and the coconuts that became prized throws.
Interesting note: Every year, krewe kings salute their queens with a toast somewhere along their parade route, often at clubs associated with the krewe. Rex stops at the Boston Club downtown. But King Zulu salutes his queen at the
Geddes and Moss Funeral Home on Washington Avenue. Bizarre? Not so much, considering Zulu’s origin in one of the “benevolent aid societies,” the first private group insurance clubs for the black community. Among other things, the societies helped with funerals— usually jazz funerals— when a member died. And what does a Mardi Gras parade have in common with a jazz funeral (aside from the band)? Secondlining, of course. That’s where everyone pulls out umbrellas or handkerchiefs and dances in a line.
The innovative and wonderful Zulu parade actually pioneered the celebrityking concept in 1949, inviting Louis Armstrong to be the first celebrity— and probably the happiest— monarch in Mardi Gras history. In a Time magazine interview, February 21, 1949, Armstrong said, “There’s a thing I’ve dreamed of all my life, and I’ll be damned if it don’t look like it’s about to come true— to be King of the Zulu’s parade. After that, I’ll be ready to die.”
Armstrong’s reign was an anomaly until 1969. The kings and grand marshals of Carnival had typically been local krewe members. That year, however, the newly formed Krewe of Bacchus invited Danny Kaye to rule. Bacchus was different from any parade krewe New Orleans had ever seen. It was the first of three “super krewes,” (Endymion and Orpheus followed). These extraordinarily large carnival organizations stage longer, more extravagant parades, feature annual celebrity guests, and throw huge parties afterward (they don’t call them balls), that are open to the public. The Super Trio of parades hits the streets the last three days before Mardi Gras and have amassed an impressive cast of celebrity monarchs and grand marshals over the years, among them Kirk Douglas, Bob Hope, the Beach Boys, Sandra Bullock, Glenn Close, and native John Goodman. There’s room in the Big Easy for people and parades of all kinds. Everyone’s got a different idea of fun, but what all krewes have in common is the pursuit of a good time, however they go about it.
In the last two centuries, over 2,000 parades have rolled through the streets of New Orleans. Every year, about 70 plus parades with approximately 15 to 35 floats take to the streets of greater New Orleans through the days and nights of the Mardi Gras season. While there might be only 200 krewe maskers on one parade’s floats, thousands can participate in the parade, including marching bands, dancers, motorcyclists, flambeaux carriers, clowns and so forth.
Parade routes are mapped out daily in the newspaper. Most begin Uptown and end Downtown. But there are Mid City, Metairie, and West Bank routes as well. Many parades, including Rex, used to wind their way through the narrow streets of the French Quarter, but the wide floats, flambeaux and packed crowds proved too dangerous, so a city ordinance outlawed Mardi Gras parades in the Quarter. Now, only the Krewe du Vieux’s small mule- and hand-drawn floats roll through the French Quarter, legitimately since they parade before the official Mardi Gras season begins.
In general, Uptown is a good bet for families; the French Quarter is wilder, and the police follow a pretty laissez-faire policy Mardi Gras day.
Barkus, the annual pet parade
Savvy natives apply military precision to Mardi Gras parade planning. If you’re interested in an all-out family party approach to weekend parades or Mardi Gras day, here’s how the natives do it:
First, realize that there are no portable outdoor restroom facilities in the city at any time. So, find an Uptown location on the parade route near a church or business that sells daylong use of restroom facilities. Plan to buy one pass for everyone in the party. Hands will be stamped, so there’s no sharing.
Next, pack a vehicle with supplies: coolers full of food and drink, utensils, dishware, folding tables, etc. Include ladders for the kids to sit or stand on while they yell wildly for throws. (Ladders have to be weighted for stability, and young children should always be accompanied by an adult.)
Cover the supplies with empty garbage bags to discourage theft and to use for trash. Park the loaded vehicle the night before the parade just off the route, near the restroom facilities. Make absolutely, positively sure it’s not on the parade route, or you will be towed.
On parade day, one or more placeholders arrives early morning, hours before the parade rolls, to stake out a choice location and set up the goodies. (On Mardi Gras day, before daybreak is best.) These hardy souls arrive equipped with breakfast, reading material and chairs). About half an hour before parade time, a designated driver drops the party off at the chosen spot, now set up and ready to serve the hungry group.
A designated driver who wants to see the parade loads a bike in the drop-off vehicle and parks in the nearest legitimate spot, often a couple of miles away, then pedals back to the parade location and locks the bike up in the supply vehicle. Walking works, too.
Crowds not your thing? Restaurants and bars along the parade routes often charge a reasonable $10 and up for a place on the balcony. The costs escalate with included food and drink on Mardi Gras day.
The only way to figure out which parades you’ll like best is to get out and see them. Meanwhile, a little background on a few krewes and their parades.
Babylon A venerable night parade, the krewe was begun by a dentist, and most of its members are physicians. One of its trademarks is the flambeau, a multi-pronged metal torch fired by chemicals which can produce a rainbow of light. Flambeaux were traditionally wielded by African Americans and were necessary to illuminate the floats of night parades. The name “Babylon” conjures up a touch of sin and exotic pleasures like the Hanging Gardens, one of its traditional floats. It rolls the Thursday before Mardi Gras.
Bacchus First of the super krewes, Bacchus, tantalizingly named for the risqué Roman god of wine, was organized in 1969 by a group of businessmen. They upset a number of old traditions: the king was a surprise celebrity instead of a local; there was no queen or court; the après-parade bash was called a “rendezvous” rather than a “ball”; and the ultra-extravagant floats actually rolled right into the Convention Center instead of stopping outside the Municipal Auditorium like other parades. And, horrors, the public could buy tickets to the non-ball and actually dance. (At private balls, outsiders are lucky to get an invitation, where the best they can hope for was to watch the activity from a distance.) The Bacchus formula was so successful it inspired Endymion and Orpheus. The parade rolls Sunday night before Mardi Gras.
Barkus In 1993 a new krewe unleashed a novel approach to membership. The Krewe of Barkus is open primarily to dogs with an itch to parade. An official statement issued by the krewe welcomes cats and other pets, but warns that no security is provided for their safety. The event benefits local and national animal welfare organizations. The procession paws through the French Quarter the Sunday afternoon before Mardi Gras.
Bourbon Street Awards It’s not a krewe, there aren’t any floats, and it’s not for kids. That said, the Awards are a New Orleans original. On Mardi Gras morning, a bevy of transvestite beauties clad in more sequins than Liberace and headgear more elaborate than a Las Vegas showgirl, parade their stuff at the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann Streets. They are vying for first place in the Bourbon Street Awards, a 40-year tradition. Afterwards, revelers head for the 800 block of Bourbon Street where the Krewe of Queenateenas sponsors the Gay Bead Toss now in its second decade of Mardi Gras madness.
Carrollton One of many neighborhood parades, it was founded in 1924 by an Oak Street (commercial street off Carrollton Avenue) businessman who wanted to celebrate the carnival season in his own backyard. The parade now rolls through the former town of Carrollton two Sundays before Mardi Gras.
Comus Comus was the oldest of the parading krewes, until the members gave up their floats and limited their revels to a ball. “The Mystick Krewe of Comus” brought the carnival parade to New Orleans. (In Roman mythology, Comus was the god of mirth and revelry. A follower of Dionysus, he was represented as a drunken youth.) Among the men who founded the krewe were six men from Mobile, where parades were already a long tradition. They formed a secret society along with 13 New Orleanians and mounted a tableau ball for 3,000 at the Gaity Theatre. Their first parade included two floats lit by flambeaux. For well over a century, their parade was the last of the Carnival season, held Mardi Gras night.
Endymion When the Endymion krewe formed in 1974, it combined tradition with some of Bacchus’ innovations. A celebrity acts as grand marshal, but the king is a local krewe member, selected at random in a raffle. The queen and her court are debutante daughters, but the party, called the “Extravaganza,” is open to the public and held at the Superdome. The krewe, by the way, is named after a youth so beautiful, the gods watched over him and his flocks as he slept in the moonlight. The parade follows a Mid-City route the Saturday afternoon before Mardi Gras.
Iris This oldest of the all-female krewes was begun in 1917 by former old-guard debutante. The first parade didn’t roll until 1959. Iris was named for the goddess of the rainbow, apt for a colorful parade. It rolls the Saturday afternoon before Mardi Gras.
Krewe du Vieux It winds its way through the Vieux Carré before the official carnival season begins. Themes head deep into satire with titles like “Depraved New World,” (In 2002, they advised onlookers to inoculate themselves against the new world order with Talibon-bons.) It is the only parade to carry on the old tradition of mule- and hand-drawn floats. It’s held after Twelfth Night, but before the Carnival season begins, usually the third Saturday evening before Mardi Gras.
Mid-City One of the oldest parades, it was formed in 1930 by a coalition of Mid-City merchants who wanted to expand the usual parade routes from Uptown into the Mid-City area. In 1947, Mid-City pioneered animated floats in 1947. The krewe parades Sunday afternoon before Mardi Gras.
Momus Founded the same year as Rex, in 1872, the krewe took the name of thegod of mockery. Krewe members are also members of the old-guard Louisiana Club. Their motto, Dum vivimus, vivamusmeans “While we live, let us live.” Momus no longer parades.
Okeanos Another effort to bring the Mardi Gras celebrations into neighborhoods other than Uptown and downtown, Okeanos was started by entrepreneurs in the Ninth Ward (a neighborhood East of the French Quarter). They chose a historic route along St. Claude Avenue, an original 19th-century parade route. (The parade was named for one of the ancient Titans, a river god who was the source of all fresh water: rain, river and wells) The parade flows through the city the Sunday morning before Mardi Gras.
Original Illinois Club and Young Men Illinois Club There’s no parade, but these are two interesting krewes. Founded in 1895 by a black butler from Chicago, the Illinois club split into the two groups, both old-guard, elite Creole Carnival organizations. Like their white counterparts, they present debutante daughters. Exclusive to the two clubs is the founder’s dance, the “Chicago Glide,” still performed by debs every year. Did we say elite? There are fewer than 50 members in the Original Club, but they stage a ball extravaganza for over 700 guests.
Orpheus A super krewe co-founded in 1994 by musician Harry Connick, Jr. The parade was named for a mythic musician who charmed the gods into releasing his dead wife from the underworld. The parade was the first to invite female celebrity monarchs like Sandra Bullock and the first to use fiber optic lights, which guarantee that no one misses its signature 120-foot-long Leviathan float. The culmination of the Lundi Gras celebration, Orpheus is now the last night parade of the carnival season, whipping up parade frenzy the day before Mardi Gras. Connick is always visible riding a parade float, and he gathers big-name entertainment for the public bash afterwards. Held at the Convention Center, it’s called the Orpheuscapade.
Phunny Phorty Phellows The first “parade” of the Carnival season, this band of men and women suit up in costumes and board wildly decorated streetcars on Twelfth Night, January 6. They party with a Dixieland band while imbibing heady beverages and snacking on king cake along the 13-mile round trip St. Charles Avenue streetcar route. Onlookers snag their first Carnival throws of the year.
Rex It’s the biggie. No matter how elaborate the super krewes, Rex is the center and culmination of Mardi Gras. The Boeuf Gras float, a reminder to all and sundry that Lent is imminent, always precedes the king’s float. The krewe member who becomes king is usually also a member of the exclusive, old-guard Boston Club and a force in the community. Rex, King of Carnival, mounts his floating throne at 10 a.m. Mardi Gras day. He rules over the revels of crowds decked out in Carnival costumes to dance, drink and feast through the oak-lined streets of New Orleans, Uptown to the Vieux Carré.
Thoth (Tow-th) This is great: Since 1947, Thoth’s Uptown parade route and whimsical themes have brought Carnival revels to institutions for disabled kids and adults.
Tucks This is outrageous: In 1968, a group of Loyola University students so loved Mardi Gras that they formed a krewe and named it after their favorite college bar, Friar Tucks. While maskers on most floats indulge the Carnival spirit, Tucks krewe members win the Peter Pan award for managing to organize so they could carry college carousing into their adult lives. The Tucks theme in 2002 was actually redundant: “Tucks Does the Wild Thing”— Tucks is the wild thing. Join the party Saturday afternoon before Mardi Gras.
Zulu At the turn of the century, “benevolent aid societies” were social clubs and private insurance groups for the black community. For minimal dues, they provided help when a member became sick or died. One of them, the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club, began a New Orleans favorite. Early Zulu processions wandered from bar to bar via trashed cars and wagons. If you missed the start of the parade, it was tough to find unless you meandered into the right watering hole at the right time. The only exception to the non-commercial rule, early ragtag Zulu floats began with sponsorship by different bars. Now, Zulu parades with real floats along an established route on Mardi Gras morning. The crowds roll out of bed early to see the antics and try to snag one of the famous Zulu coconuts.
Mardi Gras Indian
Every January 6, the Bal Masque of the Twelfth Night Revelers, one of the oldest krewes in New Orleans history, opens the Carnival ball season here. After that, the city waltzes on until midnight on Mardi Gras night.
Unless you’re among the elite of Crescent City society or have friends who are krewe members, the balls of most krewes will be forever shrouded in mystery. These krewe revels are private and admission is by invitation only. If you know someone in Rex, it’s not too hard to score an invitation, but most visitors will never see the century-old traditions of old-guard balls like Comus, Momus, and Proteus. For those without an entrée to the sanctus sanctorum of the private ball, here’s a glimpse at the protocol:
Held from 9 p.m. to midnight in the Convention Center, the Theater of Performing Arts, or a hotel ballroom, the ritual festivities combine strict etiquette with some heady partying. The kings who reign are anointed by fellow members of their krewes to preside. Queens are usually debutantes as are the maids of her court. Other krewe members play the roles of dukes, and young relatives join the ranks as pages.
The lights of the ballroom dim and the orchestra strikes up the krewe’s theme music (like Rex’ song “If Ever I Cease to Love”). Then the krewe captain (who organizes both parade— if there is one—and ball) takes a bow and welcomes the guests.
An announcer reveals the ball’s theme, which is acted out in medieval tableau fashion by pairs of elaborately costumed dukes and maids flashing more spangles than and Elton John outfit. The presentation peaks with the entrance of the king and queen, who then do a couple of ceremonial laps around the ballroom, attended by their court in a Grand March. Only the Court of Rex is called the “Carnival Court.”
Afterwards, the court, krewe, and select guests are presented to the king and queen, who are regally ensconced on elaborate thrones.
Meanwhile, the ritual of the dance begins. During the first several dances, committeemen (friends of krewe members), formally attired in white tie and tails, escort female guests— invited via mailed invitations— to the dance floor. When the committeemen don’t recognize the chosen damsel, they call out her name; hence dance invitations were dubbed “call-outs.”
During his or her spin around the floor, each krewe member gives his partner a favor. Often, it’s a krewe theme pin to wear, but it could be anything, including real jewelry, or a bronze, silver, or gold doubloon. After the invitation-only dances, the floor is open for general dancing, more or less. Guests without call-outs sit in a separate section and are never admitted to the dance floor.
The formal evening ends as it began, with a final court procession and a last bow by the krewe captain. Afterwards, festivities continue. Traditionally, the court and friends attend the Queen’s breakfast, held at a restaurant or private home, and the revelers carry on into the wee hours.
Newer organizations, like Bacchus have dispensed with the queen, court, and call-outs. Everyone with the price of a ticket is welcome to dance at their parties, which draw crowds ready to tango with big-name entertainment
In Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain wrote about Mardi Gras, “It… could hardly exist in the practical North.... For the soul of it is the romantic, not the funny and the grotesque. Take away the romantic mysteries, the kings and knights and big-sounding titles, and Mardi Gras would die, down there in the South.”
We’ll never take away the courts or kings, because in the South, we never say “die.”
This material may be reproduced for editorial purposes of promoting New Orleans. Please attribute stories to New Orleans Metropolitan Convention and Visitors Bureau. Fall 2004.
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