Famed New Orleans bandleader Louis Prima once said to a companion upon disembarking from a plane at Moisant Airport "we're in New Orleans, set your watch back 20 years!"  It was hardly an exaggeration for Carnival before the 1970's.  The prevailing air of an exclusive society, while a highly desireable tradition among hardline New Orleans natives and social elite, was far behind the times with the rest of the country.  However, the city caught up quickly during the coming decade, and great strides were made.  The Bacchinalian convention of a celebrity king was widely emulated by a dozen different krewes.  The festivities continued to expand past the borders of Nouvelle Orleans.  1974 was a banner year, with the Krewe of Argus becoming the first Shrove Tuesday parade in Metairie, and the Krewe of Endymion elevating to superkrewe status.  However, with growth of this type, changes occur that are not always for the best.  In 1975, standard float parades were banned from the Vieux Carre, ending 117 years of Carnival tradition.  With every krewe vying for superkrewe status and float sizes increasing, the centuries-old narrow streets and buildings simply could not take the strain.  However, the ban did not apply to marching clubs, nor to krewes featuring 'mini-floats' that can easily navigate the streets of the Quarter.  In 1976, the Bicentennial took precedence over the proceedings, with the Red, White, and Blue mixing in with the Purple, Green, and Gold to create a true melting pot of colors for the anniversary.
In 1978, a new walking club based out of the Contemporary Arts Center began marching as The Krewe of Clones.  The Clones were an instant hit, recalling the early satiric roots of Carnival with a lewd and bawdy eye.  Their entry into Carnival reinvigorated the walking krewe trend, and brought renewed interest in other walking krewes like The Buzzards, Society of St. Ann, and Pete Fountain.

Then, in 1979, a seeming disaster turned into a hidden blessing for the city by the Mississippi.  A police strike that had been looming as a rumour for years suddenly became a reality when labor talks broke down in late December of 1978.  No progress was made by parade time, and all the parades in Orleans Parish either cancelled or moved their parades to Jefferson or St. Bernard Parishes instead.  There would be no Zulu, Rex, or Comus to watch while the National Guard patrolled the streets.  Though the monetary loss for the city was palpable for many months afterwards, the temporary loss of the parades and the crowds gone elsewhere, New Orleanians were left to themselves on a beautiful spring day that allowed the natives (and many of the striking police officers who took to the streets dressed as pigs!) to reconnect with a Mardi Gras that had long been lost; the communal spirit of a city brought together to celebrate.  To this day, those who were there remember that Tuesday as one of the best celebrations ever, which serves as a testament to the enduring soul of Carnival in the hearts of New Orleanians.
Next up, the Eighties usher in a new Golden Age of Mardi Gras, survive a less than stellar World's Fair, and revive a lost tradition.