|
|
Page 11
THE END OF A MILLENIUM AND AN ERA
Mardi Gras 1991 followed in the wake
of Operation Desert Storm, once again tinting the proceedings with the
colours of Old Glory in time to bid farewell to the Krewe of Hercules and
greet the debut of the Krewe of Silenus. The unity displayed during
this time would be long forgotten the following year. In 1992, one
of the definitive events of modern Carnival transpired, ripping Mardi Gras
apart down to its very roots.
Reacting
to complaints from factions inside the community, then Councilwoman-at-Large
Dorothy Mae Taylor introduced an ordinance at City Council designed to
end discrimination amongst all Carnival krewes-essentially, if a krewe
wanted to march, they had to let anyone in who applied. For the newer
krewes of the 20th century this was not really a problem. But for
the older organizations, such restrictions violated the essence of the
krewes as secret, select, self-governing societies. In fact, the
selective nature of the krewe was argued as being one of the main factors
responsible for the growth of the celebrations: in the past, the exclusivity
of krewes promoted the creation of new krewes to meet the demand.
Several weeks of public debate ensued, with definitive battle lines drawn
between the krewes, the public, and Mrs. Taylor. She adamantly defended
the ordinance as public opinion shifted against her. And then, just
before the parade season was to begin, the full effect of the new legislation
was realized. In an unprecedented act of protest, the Mistick Krewe
of Comus and the Knights of Momus, the original krewes of New Orleans Carnival,
refused to compromise their traditions and retired from parading!
Proteus, the third oldest krewe, follows this by announcing that '92 will
be the last parade for them as well, also refusing to sign the ordinance.
The shock to the residents and fans worldwide at this unthinkable development
was made worse by the added loss of the krewes of Minerva, Selena, and
Venus, which qualifies 1992 as the year with the most krewe losses ever.
The one bright spot was the addition of Zulu to the Lundi Gras festivities
at the river. Despite this happy addition, Mardi Gras that
year was a little less festive, and a little lost. Without the anchors
of Comus, Momus, and Proteus to lead as they had always done, the celebrations
entered a strained period of increasing violence in the streets and a decrease
in the number of masquing participants.
This disturbing situation was compounded
in 1993 when the Municipal Auditorium, the home to dozens of krewe balls
through most of the 20th century, was appropriated by the city for use
as a temporary casino. Carnival Balls that had used the Municipal
for decades now had to find new quarters for their fetes. Again,
a major support for Mardi Gras was taken away, and revelers were once again
set adrift without an anchor. Adding insult to injury, the creation
of the casino cut severly into the revenues of krewes hosting bingo games
for fundraising. The krewes of Amor and Venus paraded their last,
and Babylon took over the "Momus Thursday" slot in the schedule.
Their old slot is filled by the Krewe of Saturn, a Kenner krewe.
Jefferson Parish, by contrast, had record-setting crowds for Fat Tuesday,
topping 800,000.
Famed musician and native son Harry
Connick, Jr. returned home in 1994 to create the Krewe of Orpheus, the
first superkrewe to have male and female riders. The addition of
Orpheus in the Lundi Gras slot previously held by Proteus was one of
the
media's hotspots that year. The opening of the Mardi Gras Museum in
Kenner (under the curatorship of Carnival historian and multi-krewe
captain
Charlie Cox, Jr.) established the historical signifigance of
Carnival. Unfortunately, after Cox's departure as curator a few
years later, the collection was slowly decimated by unscrupulous
employees and is now a mere shadow of its former glory.
It was the last year for the krewes Pandora, Marc Anthony, and Frerets
which ended a 42-year run.
1995 would prove to be an interesting
year on the business side of Carnival when Jefferson Parish allowed limited
sponsorship of parades. For years, there had been a literal and figurative
ban on corporate sponsorship for fear of Carnival turning into one large
advertisement. Jefferson Parish's decision to allow the practice
placed new emphasis on allowing it in Orleans Parish as well. Fortunately,
Carnival '95 would prove to be one of the most financially successful in
recent years. The increased interest reignited a passion for a return
to a more traditional celebration, best embodied in the new Krewe of Ashanti
being granted permission to parade with carriages instead of floats (the
krewe would parade once more before disbanding). Also that year,
Nefertari left the parade route, and one-hit wonder krewe Thebes formed
and disbanded. 1997 introduced the Knights of Camelot, and some home-grown
'scandal' when Jefferson Parish Sherrif Harry Lee sued the Krewe of Neptune
for the cost of policing the parade. Louisiana politics at its best
and worst, just the way Carnival likes it. 1997 also saw the return
to WYES television of the meeting of Rex and Comus and the close of Carnival, a tradition that continues to this day.
After a five year hiatus, the Municipal
Auditorium reopened to 17 krewe balls in 1998, and a sense of familiarity
returned to the streets. Le Krewe d'Etat and the Krewe of America
began parading, and amazingly no krewes disbanded or retired from marching.
And, in 2000, the Krewe of Proteus sealed its place in Mardi Gras for
the new millenium when it made the decision to sign the
anti-discrimination
ordinance, and returned to the streets for the first time in 7
years.
Though Mardi Gras has
returned to many
of her lost traditions in the 90's, there is still a tangible quality
that the natives are still reaching for. And that is a greater
connection with the celebrations of the past while continuing to
promote more revenue.
Up next, the new millenium and what is now in store
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 
|
|