New Orleans: The Grinch That Stole Mardi Gras

By RICHARD WOODBURY NEW ORLEANS

With Mardi Gras season under way, New Orleans was caught up last week in its traditional flurry of preparations for the 10-day pre-Lenten revelry. But much of the euphoria that usually surrounds the celebration has been replaced this year by anger and anxiety. Reason: an ordinance passed by a unanimous vote of the seven-member city council last December that requires the racially and sexually homogeneous private organizations that stage the carnival to stop discriminating or lose their right to parade.

Though the law would not take full effect until 1994, opposition has been swift and forceful. The 60 carnival groups, known as krewes, assailed the measure as a "tragic mistake" that could drive the festival out of New Orleans. Two of the most prestigious groups, the Mistick Krewe of Comus and the Knights of Momus -- both all white, all male -- have announced that they will not parade, citing government intrusion. Other krewes have threatened to cancel their parades or relocate them in future years unless the ordinance is radically altered. Such an exodus would be devastating for New Orleans, which depends on Mardi Gras to pack its hotels with thousands of wild-spending tourists who help give the local economy an annual half-billion-dollar boost.

Because Mardi Gras is so indelibly a part of New Orleans, the debate is threatening the city's social and cultural fabric. New Orleans now has a 62% black majority, largely because of white flight. A Times-Picayune poll last week showed that 66% of voters, including most blacks, want the ordinance repealed. The law's chief sponsor, councilwoman Dorothy Mae Taylor, was reviled on posters and T shirts as THE GRINCH THAT STOLE MARDI GRAS. Said carnival spokesman Beau Bassich: "The law wasn't needed. It tampers with a very special tradition that makes New Orleans' appeal so unique. It is putting everybody into a no-fun mood."

Some festival boosters are worried that racial tensions ignited by the debate could flare into attacks on the 30,000 participants who ride the lavishly designed floats amid crowds of onlookers. Some wives pressured their husbands not to ride the floats. "There's an ugly spirit; people are angry," said councilwoman Peggy Wilson. "People on the floats feel like they're going ) to be sitting ducks."

Backers of the law consider it long overdue. The old-line krewes, secret outfits whose memberships are never revealed, exclude not just blacks but also women, gays, Jews and Italians. They pay only $100.25 for parade permits but enjoy full city support, including police protection and street cleanup. Proponents of the new law argue that the issue goes beyond racial discrimination during Mardi Gras. Some of the most important krewes have direct ties to such hallowed hideaways as the Boston, Louisiana and Pickwick clubs, where important business deals are often hammered out. Says Taylor: "The Mardi Gras issue is only a smoke screen. There are no crowds of blacks waiting to jump on floats, but they are waiting for a cut of the economic pie."

But Taylor's critics contend that the makeup of the krewes is the very essence of Mardi Gras's mystical allure, and that gender bias is actually more prevalent than racial discrimination. The mostly black Zulu krewe, for example, excludes women, while the all-female Iris group bars men. Moreover, opponents question Taylor's motives in pushing for carnival reform, which was never a real issue until she suddenly brought it up. They say Taylor not only wants to run for mayor but is also out for revenge against Wilson, her council colleague, for successfully pushing a term-limit ballot amendment last fall that has turned Taylor into a lame duck. Many residents, black and white, believe Taylor and her allies have badly misplaced New Orleans' priorities at a time when crime, housing and other ills are at a peak. "The city's falling apart, and they go after one of the few things that are still really working," complained float designer Henri Schindler. Agreed carnival historian Errol Laborde: "We were just getting over the David Duke mess, and this hits. This has turned brother against brother for no good reason at all."

The city council last week seemed to come around to that view. It weakened the law by removing jail terms for violators, leaving only a $300 maximum fine, as well as shifting the burden for proving compliance from the clubs to those who complain of discrimination. But that seems unlikely to end the debate. "I'm worried about long-term effects," observed Bassich. "The damage may already have been done."