On the weekend before Mardi Gras, Endymion returns to its beloved Mid-City route for the first time since Hurricane Katrina.
Shot by Jessie Torrisi with the N95 8GB; edited by Anna Holtzman.
Even though I’d only lived there for a few weeks before the Endymion parade, I’m just going to say it: Mid-city is my New Orleans. It’s known for the bayou, which sparkles at night as the swamp rats swim through, plus great coffee, couples of every kind and neighbors who know each other by their dogs. Its full of mauve, mint green and aqua houses - to name my favorite trio on the bloc - many of them called “shotgun houses” because you could shoot a shotgun at the front door and it would come out the back.
Mid-City, like much of New Orleans, is a place of extremes, from the huge-porched houses on Esplanade Avenue to the stretch on Carollton that looks more burned to the ground than flooded. When you pass the abandoned restaurants and stores covered in graffiti, you have to wonder if they’ll ever come back. But one can only hope that Endymion’s return signals a rebirth.
Two and a half years after Katrina flooded much of the city, devastating its infrastructure and cutting the New Orleans population by a third, it was decided that the parade route was safe enough, the streets were fixed enough, and they had enough patrol cops to send Endymion back down Orleans and Canal, right where it belongs. Walking the dog the day before, I saw a banner hanging on a house. It said simply, “Welcome Home Endymion.” The O of home was shaped like a heart with the words “mid-city” scrawled inside.
On the day of the parade, it was brilliantly sunny t-shirt weather. By mid-afternoon, floats were creeping over the bayou bridge lining up. People were staking out patches of grass along Canal Street. And in typical New Orleans fashion, neighbors were piling on front porches with cocktails, snacks and masks to get the party started. After running into a good friend (because Mid-City is like that) I was pulled onto such a porch. Several hours later, in a dreamy afternoon haze, we all headed out.
By 5 p.m., I was a bit hungry, weary and worried we were going to miss the parade. We stopped home for a quick refuel, then walked along the streetcar tracks on Canal to our spot in front of the United Way building. We passed dads hoisting children on their shoulders, makeshift bands cranking out ragged beats, lawn chairs upon lawn chairs and lots of beer coolers. Sunset was stunning, a soft purple illuminating the tree branches, casting a serene glow over the boisterous celebration that surrounded us.
Around 7 p.m., the parade started. Revelers strutted down the street with torch flames as observers threw coins. High school marching bands and sequined dancers brought their funky, joyful enthusiasm to the celebration. And then came the much-anticipated Captain’s float: hordes of men in white masks throwing beads while kids and grownups alike, arms outstretched, jumped, whistled and shouted. Throw me something, mister!
It seemed like the night would go on forever.
Next up, Julu and TBC Brass Band take to the streets for some Mardi Gras celebration.
Jessie Torrisi is a professional musician and journalist who has spent the last decade living in Brazil, Cameroon and Brooklyn, NY. On New Year’s Day 2008, she moved to New Orleans, where she spent five months writing music, learning second line drumbeats and shooting videos about Mardi Gras and life after Hurricane Katrina.
Language: English