Ian Zelazny
Professor Jason Berry
Journalism and Place
3/3/12
A man in black tie coaxed sad wah-wahs out of his t-bone. Another noodled out golden lassos on the sax. The wet burp of a tuba rumbled the humid air on Royal Street. These were the first sounds of carnival season 2012: Krewe du Vieux’s lead brass band starting the parade on its wild whirl.
The energy on the street was electric. People were grabbing at each other and head-dancing as a snow-white mule pulled the lead float in. The float, splashed with turquoise and hot pink carried words on its side: ‘Crimes Against Nature,’ the parade’s theme. They were emblazoned in black on a background of dancing, glowing lights.
The next band marched the saints. The crowd erupted Who Dats as queen Deon Hayworth rolled in. Enormous, slick black butterfly wings silhouetted Hayworth, chosen for her work as Executive Director at Women with a Vision. Electric neon illumination bolted across them.
Oom-pahs of horn followed Hayworth and a relentless drumbeat rolling.
The first of the sub-krewes emerged, the Krewe of Bourbon. Krewe du Vieux’s floats are small and don’t have more than two or three riders. The parade is composed of 17 sub-krewes.
Krewe du Vieux breaks down into such minute levels that each sub-krewe has its own persona. Each float has its own theme. Each sign and costume are self-made, which makes for great diversity.
Krewe of Bourbon produced a glamoring gold-festooned float, complimented by the lush green of dollar bills, above which read “We are the 1%” One of the marching costumed revelers, of which Krewe du Vieux has over one thousand, held up an adult-themed sign reading “Does my Wallet Make My Ass Look Big?”
Drums marked a churning beat. A blaring trumpet lead. A saxophone emitted a puttering riff and a trombone stirred. A host of brass and jazz bands, the pride of Krewe du Vieux, made the night. Langiappe, Pinettes, Kinfolk, TBC, New Birth, Jazzmen, Bone Tone, Young Fellaz, Paulin Bros, Baby Boyz, Stooges Brass Band, One Mind, Panorama, The Tornados, Free Agents, Treme Brass Band, Egg Yolk Jubilee, Hot Eight Brass Band, Down and Dirty. They were all there, giving it all and breathing heavy.
The Krewe of Mama Roux spun out with a mule-drawn fanciful den of colors, emblazoned with the banner “Arabi Spring, the Chic of Arabi,” Arabi being a pun on the Arab spring and Arabi, Louisiana. Their costumes were regional garb paired with shrimp boots. Near the float one individual carried a sign reading “God Hates Shrimp,” commenting both on the BP oil spill as well as the hostile signs some religious protestors hold on Bourbon street.
Behind them the Stooges Brass Band ripped it out with their rendition of Chic Corea’s ‘Spain,’ cooking up a carousel of sound with their hands, with the wind in their chests.
Another float came burgeoning down the street, marked Dollar General Hospital, a jab at New Orleans’s plethora of hospital-related woes. Paraders danced behind it to The Stooges’ beat. Doctors wore sinister makeup. Nurses wore very little. The crowd bounded up and down for handouts and the medicinal forces distributed trinkets.
The dreamlike scene reached epic proportions: a mass of paraders held up sticks upon which waggled paper-mache sperm. They handed plastic ones to the parade-goers.
A cow rolled by, a heaving bong at its lips, smoke machine pumping white out of the thing. A silo, mechanically spinning, was erected behind it.
The Krewe du Vieux was founded in 1987, born from the ashes of the Krewe of Clones. The Clones began in 1978, based out of the Contemporary Arts Center. This “Art Parade” became wildly popular for their imaginative and creative street performance art. By 1985, the Krewe of Clones had grown to 30 subkrewes and over 1500 marchers.
After the Clones imposed rules designed to create a respectable Uptown parade, Craig “Spoons” Johnson of the Krewe of Underwear and Don Marshall of Le Petite Theatre du Vieux Carre conspired to form a new parading Krewe. Their intent was to bring back parading in the French Quarter in the free-wheeling style of the Clones without myriad rules and expenses. Free from the constraints of decorum and reality, KdV was established as an official parade. “Spoons” was the first Captain, assisted by Susan Gibeault and Ray “Plaine” Kern. These three friends combined their talent for lunacy and satire and Krewe du Vieux was born.
The parade tailed to a close, with its final contraption. A street sign, white on crayola blue read “Duncan Plaza,” from which occupy protesters were driven last winter. Upon the float was a yellow tent, from which light emanated. Above the tent lurked a sinister figure, stretching his paper arms over the unsuspecting campers – a giant representation of Mitch Landrieu. His presence at the end of the parade is a longstanding tradition. Each and every year, the punny and pokey Krewe du Vieux ceremonally burns the mayor in effigy.
Ian Zelazny Library Project 