Look at this beauty: an invitation to the Mystick Krewe of Comus' 1867 Mardi Gras ball. Most are familiar with the springtime New Orleans extravaganza. But what's up with the krewe business?
First, let's clarify what's going on with the word 'krewe'. It's pronounced the same as 'crew', but the founders thought it would be fun to give a shout-out to John Milton and spell it old-style. Krewes are basically private clubs. Membership is select and usually requires a fee. Some membership rosters are secret. The fee varies widely, from a few bucks to thousands. Think country club membership, without the golf. Their purpose is to make a splashy contribution to the Mardi Gras celebration. This usually takes the form of an elaborate parade float with all the accoutrements (costumes; items like fake coins and cheap beads to throw to the crowd). Some also throw a big party on Mardi Gras night, from lavish balls to tailgate-style cookouts.
The Comus Krewe is the oldest New Orleans krewe, founded in 1857.The founders were familiar with the long tradition of elaborate Mardi Gras celebrations in Mobile,
Alabama, which began in 1703. Yes, that's right - Mobile is the birthplace of the Mardi Gras celebration as we know it, not New Orleans. Not to be outdone by their Gulf Coast neighbors to the east, the Comus Krewe put on quite the shindig at home in New Orleans that spring. It was a big hit. Word got around. In subsequent years, folks traveled from near and far to observe the annual New Orleans parade. And thus a multi-million dollar tourist industry was born.
Like some country clubs, membership in Comus was limited and pricey. It wasn't long before other krewes sprang up to fill the void created by their snootiness. Some were copycats, equally pricey and snooty. Some were more casual, catering to underserved (read: folks Comus wouldn't allow in their club, like non-whites, non-Protestants, non-men).
Comus Krewe operations flowed more or less without interruption until they hit a bump in the parade route in 1992, when New Orleans passed an anti-discrimination law. Comus chose to withdraw from parade participation rather than comply with the new law as it applied to their membership. They still hold their annual ball.
Most of what you've read up to this point is more or less verified and accurate, as accurate as anything can be that is based on online research. This last bit is to be viewed with an exceedingly skeptical eye, but it was so outrageous and, dare I say, crazy, I had to share:
Diligent Googling about the Comus Krewe may also steer you to a website claiming to be a transcription of a deathbed confession by a former member. In it, he claims the krewe was a front for a secret society composed of anarchists, murderers, and (gasp!) Yankee bankers. The argument is made that certain founders of the Krewe had ties to powerful financial interests that supported the creation of the Confederacy, and therefore were behind all manner of mayhem to bring this to pass. It makes all kinds of claims connecting Comus Krewe to the Bank of Rothschild, the Illuminati, the Masons, the assassination and attempted assassination of various high ranking politicians, including James Buchanan, Zachary Taylor, William Henry Harrison (presidents all) and longtime Louisiana politician Huey P. Long. The confessor does say most krewe members were unaware of the diabolical deeds the ringleaders orchestrated.
The article is long, as conspiracy rants tend to be. It needs a good editor. It's probably a load of nonsense. But if you're a conspiracy theorist, or you're looking for some story ideas, check it out. The Comus Krewe confessions might lead you somewhere even more entertaining than the French Quarter during Mardi Gras.
This post originally appeared during my participation in the 2016 A to Z Blog Challenge.
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