My First Mardi Gras

I first attended Mardi Gras in New Orleans in 1984, with Steven Durland and assorted members of the High Performance Travel Club. The club was open to anybody who wanted to go on a trip with us. We drove from L.A. to NOLA, bringing along San Francisco performance artist Michael Peppe and writer Marian Kester.

Mardi Gras-bound: Peppe, Kester, Burnham & Durland, Ft. Stockton, Tex., with Paisano Pete, world's largest roadrunner

[Tangent: Michael Peppe is highly talented at manipulating torrents of words in performance. He won Steve Durland’s Five-Minute Performance Olympics, a true cut-throat competition. Here’s a sample of Peppe’s work from High Performance: The Record. Once you’ve heard that, you’ll realize that Peppe was and probably still is very peppy and a bit of a challenge on a long car trip. On the way home we left him in the middle of the desert because he was the only one who wanted to go to the Grand Canyon and he wouldn’t shut up about it.]

We met other members of the Travel Club in NOLA and we all stayed in the loft of an obliging performance artist, making forays into the parade and bar scene. It was very cold, so in between parades we would dash into a bar and drink gin and eat oysters.

During one parade we hooked up with some members of the Church of the SubGenius from Dallas and Little Rock. They were on acid and into some High Weirdness. We were all sitting in a bar on the parade route, viewing a parade through the window, but we could only see the middle third of each float. Arms went by throwing beads. Parts of enormous animals made of papier mache. Naked bulbous tummies, filling the window with an inexplicable voodoo dread. The Subgenii were bugeyed with astonishment. What?!! they wanted to know. Here’s a recent picture of the Rev. Ivan Stang, Church cult leader, still at least as weird as he was then.

Ivan Stang Official Portrait

One of our Travel Club companions stands out as unforgettable, and I will call him Dr. Fred. He was a sex fiend and easily the strangest looking one in the U.S. at that time. He complained constantly that he hadn’t brought his wife, with whom he had sex four times a day. One afternoon in the loft we were being subjected to one of Peppe’s tirades about the accommodations and the entire Mardi Gras scene when Dr. Fred arrived beaming. He announced he had just witnessed an event in front of a bar on Bourbon Street and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen: a man [insert sexual euphemism] with a dog. After that, he informed Steve that he was in love with me and warned him that he would steal me away at the earliest opportunity. Steve and I excused ourselves and went out for lots more drinks.

The rest is pretty much of a blur, except for the part where I ate four servings of crawfish right before we left for L.A. and we had to stop at every restroom we passed.

LB & gorilla

Self with Mardi Gras gorilla, NOLA, 1984

 

lbsdmardigras

Linda and Steve preparing to hit the street in NOLA

 

lbpeppenola

Linda and Michael Peppe with proof of actual visit.

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4 Responses to My First Mardi Gras

  1. Marian July 8, 2011 at 6:13 pm #

    Linda!

    Deftly mentioned about the Peppe and its peccadilloes. I thought the trip was in ’84, tho … Of course if you remember the 80s you, uh, – were there? Can’t think of a catchy quip for that decade.

    luv Marian

  2. Linda Frye Burnham July 9, 2011 at 10:36 am #

    By god you’re right, Marian!! I was going by a Mardi Gras poster I have on my refrigerator to cover up the rust marks on the door. It WAS 1984!

  3. david heymuldoon April 14, 2012 at 4:37 am #

    michael peppe, master of the absurd. dada doktor of is, ernst becker bible thumper, table thumper extaordinaire, barefoot with elbows extended, not afraid to bang his ears, wandering extemporaneously through the set, pointedly places a scissor on the floor, where it belongs. simultaneously simple and profound. while in new orleans, did he lead you to a cemetery? the man’s forte is pointing out the obvious, that all interred there are dead.

    • Linda Frye Burnham April 14, 2012 at 10:24 am #

      We may well have visited a cemetery. Who remembers?

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