The Phirst Phestivities of Carnival
text by Kevin Credo
The last night of Christmas and the first night of
Carnival has come again, and Twelfth Night is always not just the first, but
also one of the most important and dynamic points of the Carnival season. And
with that passing of the seasons, one of the most cherished traditions of Mardi
Gras has taken to the streets (and the neutral grounds) of New Orleans.
The Phunny Phorty Phellows, the small and venerable
"Heralds of Carnival," roll every Twelfth Night as a streetcar procession
through St. Charles Avenue and surrounding neighborhoods. It takes its name
from a group of satirical masked costumers who trailed the Rex parade in the
earliest days of modern Carnival parading in the late 1800s. The vintage of
this first group is evident simply in the "ph" spelling itself—identifying it
amongst the whimsical, romantic-era misspellings also seen in the immortalized
term for parades themselves: "krewes." While dormant for nearly a century, the
modern incarnation of the Phellows was kickstarted in the early 1980s, and it
revives that earlier spirit with a jovial, masked streetcar ride through the
Uptown and CBD neighborhoods. With a respectable run of over 40 years now—having
run considerably longer than its 19th-century predecessor—the Phunny Phorty
Phellows are a small yet cherished institution, this year offering the warmth
of the Carnival season on a cold night, at a time when it feels more welcome
than ever.
Carnivalesque maskers began their annual descent upon
the Willow RTA streetcar barn around the time of the early winter sunset. The
Phunny Phorty is loose in the way of organized yearly themes, and each rider
comes in their own carnivalesque getup, running the gamut from formal masking
to costumes taking a satirical bent on all aspects of society. Needless to say,
the small size of the group ("phorty" being a good number to harmonize with the
carrying limit of a single streetcar, of course), the diverse range of artistry
and costuming it presents, and the consistent level of effort undertaken
throughout that range make it, perhaps, the very best of the New Orleans
Carnival—offered in its most concentrated package.
Joined at the barn by their longtime partners in the
Krewe of Oak and the Funky Uptown Krewe, the PPP counted down to its annual
ribbon cutting on Carnival, anticipation building to a roaring applause
accompanied by the brass band music of the Storyville Stompers. Accompanied by
special escort from the RTA, both riders and civil servants took great effort
to tailor the evening's revelry to the increased security and logistical
changes discussed by LaToya Cantrell, Jeff Landry, and Joe Biden in the past
days. Following the New Year's Day violence that has framed the season in the
worst possible way, just about everyone on and off the ride was showing a lot
of graciousness.
It all worked smoothly once the streetcar sputtered
forth. The opening of the procession met a great deal of friends ("phriends,"
as humorously quipped by the riders) and families proverbially and literally
catching the beginning of Mardi Gras. Beads, keychains, and all manner of
throws came to the many onlookers, although the physical constraints of the
trolley made it so that goodies were doled out on a more casual basis than the
parades to come. Riding onto the parade's main thoroughfare of St. Charles
Avenue, spectators continued to come in dedicated pockets, rollicking past the
sleepy first night of the Tulane and Loyola semesters and bringing a little
warmth to a lot of people looking for Carnival spirit and a sense of normalcy.
As the streetcars passed through St. Charles Avenue,
the parade began its annual king cake procession to determine the Phellows'
"boss," a satirical inversion of the more traditional Krewe King. Chosen by the
ancient tradition of king cake babies, the Boss has some big responsibilities.
He may or may not be footing the bill for next year's cakes.
With The Storyville Stompers continuously bringing
traditional brass band beats for those in and out of the streetcar, the
procession chugged its way up and down New Orleans before returning to its
initial streetcar barn. With a successful year in, the merry riders then
embarked on a collective trek ever so slightly up Carrolton to their afterparty
ball at Rock 'N' Bowl, exclusively opened and catered just for them. Riders and
organizers were elated with the successful run, along with the safety and
logistical measures from the city that made it all come together.
While the original Phunny Phorty were renowned for
being the "desert of Carnival" after the processions of Rex, the modern group
is an exquisite foretaste of everything still to come. It's a group that's able
to move between the influences of classical Carnival, its own modern
traditions, and the niche of Twelfth Night to create a form of revelry beloved
by some of the most dyed-in-the-wool Mardi Gras aficionados. And with the
Phunny Phorty's phoray, the phestivities have just begun.
