Arrow-right Camera
The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Mardi Gras droops in New Orleans


Josh Galjour of New Orleans holds a sign during the Pegasus Parade on St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans on Saturday. To the right is Jennifer Cocherham from Houma, La. 
 (Associated Press / The Spokesman-Review)
Scott Gold Los Angeles Times

NEW ORLEANS – If this was the day that New Orleans was to step out into the light, it did so haltingly, gingerly, its eyes squinted. On a dreary and chilly day, under splintered southern oaks lining St. Charles Avenue, Mardi Gras began on Saturday, nearly six months after Hurricane Katrina brought the city to its knees.

There were floats with a giant crawfish and a massive roulette wheel, but crowds were so sparse that paraders were left with unopened boxes of “throws,” mostly colorful beads that have long been cherished mementos of the festival.

The decision to stage the street party despite the enormous hardship still shouldered by hundreds of thousands of people had been controversial from the start, but for many, the identity of this city is so intertwined with Carnival that to do anything less would have meant, once and for all, defeat.

But any lingering concern that Mardi Gras could send a false and dangerous message to the nation – that New Orleans has recovered – was dispelled quickly.

By the end of the day, the consensus was that this Mardi Gras will not mean economic or spiritual salvation. Instead, it will be a reminder of the way things used to be and the way they might be again, a benign distraction from the storm, which informs every breath and step of those who have managed to come home.

Crowds, though they will surely pick up when Carnival begins its final push next weekend – especially if the weather improves – were shockingly small Saturday.

It is a tradition for parents to bring stepladders equipped with small seats for children, who otherwise can’t see through the throng of adults lining the parade routes. That was not a concern this year, and many people, with a block virtually to themselves, closed the ladders and laid them on the ground.

There was a full run of parades – five in all, organized by “krewes,” secretive organizations with names like Shangri-La and the Knights of Sparta. The five have marched through the city’s streets a combined 175 times.

In years past, the parades would have been good for 10 hours or more of merriment – long enough, as they say and do around here, to get drunk, sleep it off and then do it again before it’s over.

Saturday, with fewer floats, fewer bands and fewer onlookers, it was over in an hour and a half.

Usually the opening weekend is a major draw, with the partying lasting almost two weeks, until Fat Tuesday – Feb. 28 this year – the final day before Lent begins.

City officials agreed to a scaled-back Mardi Gras schedule with a total of eight days of parades and fewer krewes marching than usual.

“It’s great the city’s having the parades. But it’s not going to save us,” said Clark Theriot, owner of the Pinkie and Blue Boy vintage clothing shop, located on Magazine Street, just south of the parade route. “All you can do is hope to survive, not only for the next six months, but also for the next two to three years.”