Among New Orleanians fortunate enough not to have lost a loved one to Hurricane Katrina, few took as big a hit as Lloyd Frischhertz, an attorney and co-captain of the Krewe of Tucks.

Before the storm, he and his family were preparing to move into a home he had just had build in Lakeview. His existing residence, also in Lakeview, was under contract to be sold. His mother and son-in-law occupied one of two other properties he owned in the neighborhood. When Katrina unleashed a surge from Lake Pontchartrain, causing a breach in the floodwall along the 17th Street Canal, all four homes were inundated. Lacking adequate flood insurance, Frischhertz, whose brothers and sisters also lost their homes, figures Katrina cost him about $1 million in lost property value.

Although debate about the fate of Mardi Gras 2006 began raging almost as soon as the floodwaters receded, Frischhertz, who along with Robert Reichert founded Tucks in 1969, was hardly in a position to join the fray. For the first month or so after the storm, he says, he was “just trying to lick my wounds,” while scrambling to get his law practice back up and running and find housing for his immediate and extended families. (He wound up buying a house and finding temporary office space in Baton Rouge.)

But it was just a matter of time before Frischhertz, who says he is committed to New Orleans and plans to rebuild in Lakeview, would cast his lot with those seeking to revive the Mardi Gras spirit, which he equates with optimism and positive thinking. By October, he was attending meetings of the Mayor’s Mardi Gras Advisory Council, a group comprised mainly of krewe captains and city officials who help set the agenda for the festivities. While the captains, who are by nature Mardi Gras die-hards, were unanimously in favor of proceeding with the celebration, the prospect of revelry amid the ruins struck some as ill advised, if not a slap in the face.

“People were saying, “How can you have Mardi Gras,” recalls Frischhertz, with the large swaths of the city devastated, basic services severely impaired, municipal finances in tatters and residents scattered far and wide?

Nevertheless, six months after Katrina — and after much soul-searching, negotiating and, finally, compromise among city officials and krewe leaders — the stage is set for a Mardi Gras unlike any other. Steeped in meaning and fraught with emotion, it has become a crucial milestone for the city post-Katrina.

“It’s a shame what the people have been through down here, but at some point the funeral has got to get over and the recovery has got to begin,” says Ed Muniz, captain of the Krewe of Endymion. “And most people decided the recovery would begin with Mardi Gras.”

The stakes are high not only in terms of the city’s ability to recover being put to the test. Mardi Gras 2006 is attracting an unprecedented media frenzy, putting New Orleans under a microscope as reporters from around the world vie to glean insights into the post-Katrina psyche of the (albeit much reduced) populace and dissect the merits of proceeding with “The Greatest Free Show on Earth.” Which is causing no small amount of trepidation among local cognoscenti about how the city’s signature celebration will be portrayed: as a frivolous and excessive exercise in bad taste, considering the dire circumstances wrought by the hurricane, or a nuanced personification of an extraordinarily rich vernacular culture and singularly vivacious spirit, which refuses to be smothered by a nasty hussy named Katrina?

As well, there’s concern about Mardi Gras sending mixed signals. As Anne Rochell Konigsmark recently observed in USA Today: “Even as New Orleans makes every attempt to look pretty and party-ready, it wants the world to remember how broken things remain.” The article went on to quote Christian Brown, a member of Rex, one of the oldest and most high-profile Mardi Gras krewes: “We want to say to the federal government, ‘We need your help.’ But we also want to send a message to come on down. We’re fine.”

In fact, many New Orleanians — feeling frustrated and abandoned, like orphans in their own country — are coming to view Mardi Gras as a sort of antidote to what is perceived as a woefully inadequate government response to the disaster. For them, Mardi Gras is a way to take control of their own destiny. “Why should we wait any longer?” asks Frischhertz. “Why shouldn’t we heal ourselves?”

Part of that healing involves catharsis, and Mardi Gras provides an ideal coping mechanism — a vehicle for finding humor in tragedy while also taking satirical aim at Katrina and venting frustration at governmental ineptitude. Indeed, while Mardi Gras has long served as a forum for ridicule and topical commentary, perhaps never before in its long and storied history — 2006 marks the 150th anniversary of the first organized Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans — has there been such an abundance of ripe fodder for poking fun.

And in fact, the first parade of the season offered a strong indication that thanks to Katrina, and all the pain and suffering it has inflicted on New Orleans, irreverence will reach a new, er, high-water mark this Mardi Gras.

The Krewe du Vieux, a satirical parading organization comprised of 17 units, or “sub-kewes,” chose as its theme “C’est Levee,” a play on the French phrase meaning “such is life.” Delighted throngs of mostly local spectators hooted and hollered as the procession made its way through the Marigny district and the historic French Quarter, with each sub-krewe presenting its own uniquely twisted take on all things Katrina-related.

The Krewe of PAN, with a float entitled “Buy Us Back, Chirac!” offered a plea for France to reverse the Louisiana Purchase as a way to address U.S. government concerns about the tremendous cost of rebuilding New Orleans. Members of the Knights of MONDU donned individually decorated refrigerator headpieces — metaphors for the stench of failed leadership — while the Krewe of Mama Roux presented “Home is Where the Tarp Is,” with members costumed in the ubiquitous blue material that protects damaged roofs throughout the city. (According to the Krewe du Vieux’s Monde de Merde newsletter, Mama Roux obtained “a special discount” on the material from “a FEMA sub-sub-sub-sub-sub contractor for a mere $985 per yard.”)

The Krewe of K.A.O.S. (Kommittee for the Aggravation of Organized Society) lampooned former Federal Emergency Management Agency Director Michael Brown, a.k.a. “Brownie,” with the theme “K.A.O.S. Rules FEMA.” Its unadorned float featured an empty throne with a sign announcing that Brown, anointed as grand marshal by the krewe, was “out to dinner.” Other signs on the float promised that decorations, beads and were "on the way.”

The Krewe du Vieux, with approximately 900 members, couldn’t come close to accommodating everyone who wanted to participate in this year’s parade, because of public safety issues relating to the number of people who could be moved safely through the French Quarter. According to Keith Twitchell, the krewe’s “Poobah of Publicity,” the groundswell of interest spoke to the strong desire on the part of New Orleanians for a creative outlet that offered the opportunity to make a statement, and for a much-needed break from pain and heartache.

“Being able to laugh about ourselves, being to laugh at our plight, even as we do everything in our power to deal with it, actually makes us more effective,” he points out. “If you never lighten up, sooner or later the load just wears you down.”

The Krewe du Vieux also seemed to provide a welcome release for spectators, who turned out in surprisingly large numbers — finding a parking spot anywhere near the French Quarter was virtually impossible — despite temperatures in the low 40s. Not necessarily what you’d expect in a city supposedly still missing two-thirds of its pre-Katrina residents.

“The energy in the crowds was phenomenal, the smiles on people’s faces were amazing,” says Twitchell. “If there was any question about whether or not we should be having Mardi Gras, I think it was resoundingly answered on Saturday night.”

There was never really any doubt Mardi Gras would take place in New Orleans; it was just a question of scale. When a police strike forced the cancellation of parades in 1979, revelers still jammed the French Quarter on Fat Tuesday. The uncertainly surrounding Mardi Gras 2006 hinged on the extent to which the beleaguered city government would facilitate the most recognized public manifestation of the festivities: “official” parades on public streets featuring floats, marching bands, dance troupes and other supporting “units.” While these krewe pageants are privately funded by dues-paying members, the city issues the necessary permits, coordinates scheduling and routes, plus picks up the tab for police protection, sanitation and related services.

According to figures provided to the New Orleans Times-Picayune by William Grace, a former Rex who chairs the Mayor’s Mardi Gras Advisory Council, the city normally would spend about $4 million to $5 million on police overtime and other Mardi Gras-related services. But the festivities would generate $40 million to $45 million in direct tax revenue, about $20 million to $25 million of which would flow into city coffers.

Post-Katrina, even if the city could find a way to trim its Mardi Gras expenses, coming up with the necessary funding posed a serious challenge. Despite having laid-off some 3,000 workers, or nearly half of its work force, the city is essentially bankrupt. With its tax base washed away by Katrina, it has been relying on the good graces of bankers to cover operating expenses.

Other factors compounded the challenge of hosting Mardi Gras: Reduced ranks in the police force; battered medical facilities and other essential infrastructure; a skeleton tourism work force; and limited availability of hotel rooms (many of which are occupied by relief workers, contractors and insurance adjusters).

Moreover, negotiations about Mardi Gras were being played out in the context of a broader debate about the future of the city itself. A large percentage of the city’s black population was displaced by the hurricane, raising the prospect that New Orleans could lose the wellspring of its Afrocentric cultural identity, which has nurtured its Mardi Gras Indian, marching band and second-line traditions. If the Lower Ninth Ward and other once-vibrant, predominantly black neighborhoods aren’t rebuilt, New Orleans could become a Disneyesque charicature of itself with daiquiris but nowhere near as much soul as before.

By inflicting so much suffering on the city’s underclass, Katrina also laid bare a racial and economic chasm that made discussions about devoting scarce resources to Mardi Gras particularly touchy. Bishop TD Jakes struck a nerve in this regard during a sermon at a prayer service for victims of Katrina, at the Washington National Cathedral in September. Witih President Bush looking on, Bishop Jakes — described by The New York Times as “one of the nation’s most influential and mesmerizing preachers” — intoned that the storm “has made us think and look and reach beyond the breach and dare to discuss the unmentionable issues that confront us…. This can no longer be a nation that overlooks the poor and the suffereing and continues past the ghetto on our way to the Mardi Gras.”

Against this backdrop, it was hardly surprising that the city’s decision to proceed with Mardi Gras sparked controversy. This became particularly apparent in December, at a town hall meeting in Atlanta where New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin addressed citizens displaced by Katrina. As reported in Gambit Weekly, “displaced New Orleanian Betty Gaynor deplored Nagin's decision to proceed with Carnival 2006. ‘How can we be having Mardi Gras and we aren't even there?’ Gaynor asked, referring to the inability of thousands of evacuees to move back home. A large crowd of other evacuees roared in agreement as Nagin responded: ‘I went before the tourist industry and the lieutenant governor and all those folks. They are of the mindset that we need to hold Mardi Gras to get the economy going again...’ Voices in the audience yelled: ‘Oh no! Oh no!’ ‘I was against it; I was against it,’ the mayor told the crowd, emphatically.”

If Mardi Gras personifies the festive spirit of New Orleans, tourism is its life blood. And by far the most important cog in the tourism economy is not Mardi Gras, but rather the conventions and meetings trade. In trumping Nagin and winning the support of the New Orleans City Council, movers and shakers in Mardi Gras and the tourism industry, backed by Leiutenant Governor Mitch Landrieu, combined to make a powerful force in the heated negotiations over the fate of Mardi Gras post-Katrina.

“New Orleans survives on convention business,” says Frischhertz, adding: “Mardi Gras is a coming-out party and a statement to convention planners: ‘Come back, we can handle you.’ “

Call it Mardi Gras as PR tool. The New Orleans Tourism Marketing Corp., which is funded by a city hotel tax, is aggressively promoting Mardi Gras to media outlets. The purpose, says NOTMC spokesman Larry Lovell, is twofold: to 1) announce to the world that New Orleans is open for business and capable of hosting big events, and 2) replace negative Katrina media images of fires, flooding, looting and suffering with “wonderful photos of New Orleans hosting this beautiful, incredible major event that’s directly tired to our culture and heritage.”

Of course, the risk of having the media spotlight on Mardi Gras is that any negative activity — such as violence, confrontations with housing-rights activists or ugly instances of drunken bufoonery on Bourbon Street — will be broadcast around the world. “We’re under a microscope,” admits float builder Blaine Kern Sr., who is also captain of the Krewe of Alla. “I hope nothing goes wrong, good God almighty.”

So what kind of Mardi Gras is in store for all the world to see, post-K? A somewhat scaled-down version, to be sure. But a palpable sense of poignance should more than compensate for any lack of extravagance or versimultitude. This is especially true for displaced locals who plan to make the festivities a homecoming, reuniting friends and families.

Parades will take place over eight days, from Feb. 18 – 19 and Feb. 23 – 28, as opposed to the traditional 12. Parades will roll in tandem, in tight formations with fewer marching bands. Flambeaux, as well as support units such as dance troupes and mounted posses, will be scaled back. Thoth, Zulu and Endymion, whose identities are closely associated with their traditional routes, will follow more or less the same route along St. Charles Ave. as every other parade.

All of these changes are the result of compromises aimed at reducing police overtime and other costs. After Katrina ravaged its finances, the city had hoped to defray most of its costs by signing up corporate sponsors. The sponsorship proposal, unveiled in December, was carefully crafted to avoid running afoul of a city ordinance prohibiting the commercialization of Carnival. Offering title sponsorship, in which a company’s name would appear before the words “Mardi Gras,” was ruled out, as was allowing the names of companies or brands to appear on floats. Such restrictions apparently turned off would-be underwriters, although the city did manage to sign up a maker of trash bags, Glad Products Co. (In addition to contributing a still-unspecified six-figure sum. Glad will donate 100,000 trash bags and coordinate volunteers for Mardi Gras cleanup.)

Two days before the first “official” parades of the season were scheduled to roll, the New Orleans City Council voted 7-0 to spend $2.7 million on police overtime and other Carnival-related expenses. “Council members offered no thoughts on where the nearly broke city will find the cash, chosing to spend now and worry later,” noted a report in the Times-Picayune.

Some krewes are facing financial strains of their own, or simply don’t have enough depth in their membership or leadership ranks to mount a parade in the wake of disaster that displaced so many citizens. Or they’ve decided that the most appropriate option, given the hardship Katrina has imposed, is to take a year off. In any case, Oshun, Druids, Saturn, Cleopatra, Nomtoc are absent from this year’s schedule. Bards of Bohemia cancelled its parade at the last minute, because it couldn’t obtain liability insurance. And some smaller krewes on the schedule, determined to parade despite reduced membership rosters, will roll with just a handful of floats.

By contrast, the largest krewe in Mardi Gras, Endymion, will have no less than 2,160 riders, up from last year’s record 2,138, according to Muniz. More members are taking a leave of absense than ever before, however: at least 350, versus around 200 in an average year. Endymion allows members taking leave to recruit a substitute, who pays a $100 fee to become a member for a year. This year, says Muniz, “they were able to replace themselves with absolutely no problem.”

Perhaps now more than ever, many locals view participating in Mardi Gras as a civic duty — an affirmation of love for New Orleans and its grandest and most cheirshed tradition. This spirit also is yielding some notable acts of benificence. The Krewe of Tucks used a party in honor of its queen as an occasion to raise funds for the New Orleans Musicians Clinic, a non-profit organization helping musicians with medical and housing expenses. The all-female Krewe of Muses made a $50,000 donation to help cover the cost of police overtime pay for Mardi Gras. A newly formed group called the Canal Street Parade Preservation Alliance — which includes the local hospitality group New Orleans Fine Hotels, the Chateau Sonesta hotel and the restaurant group Dickie Brennan & Co. — followed suit, donating $56,000 to the police department to help defray Mard Gras-related public saftey expenses.

Thanks to Kern, 20 authentic African Zulu warriors, donning their traditional costumes, shields and spears, will appear as a headline feature in the Zulu parade on Fat Tuesday. The Mardi Gras impresario, who supplies floats and throws for the Zulu parade, says he was motivated by losses experienced by the 90-year-old, historically black club. (Ten Zulu members died during or after Katrina, and most members lost their homes to the storm. Its clubhouse on Broad Street also flooded.)

“I felt it was important that I try to bring some entertainment back for them, something that would point up their plight,” explains Kern, who traveled to South Africa on his own dime to find people who could serve as liaisons in contacting Zulu leaders. Richard Loring, a well-known musical producer in South Africa and an old acquaintance of Kern’s; and Felicia Suttle, a South African tourism promoter in New York, helped make the necessary arrangements. A company for which Kern does marketing work, Diageo Liquor Co., distributor of Captain Morgan Rum, is underwriting the Mardi Gras appearance by the Zulu warriors, who will perform a dance in which they clash spears and stomp the ground.