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Standing in for Glapion at the Lundi Gras arrival ceremony was Dr. Myron E. Moorehead, who reigned as King Zulu in 1999. Also present was Glapion’s son, Roy A. Glapion, and his wife, Joyce.

After thanking various organizations and companies that helped put on Zulu Lundi Gras festivities, Zulu President Gary Thornton offered a tribute to Glapion and then introduced Morial. The mayor, no slouch when it comes to handling ceremonial duties, extended a welcome to the assembled masses. To loud cheers, he proclaimed anyone “within the territorial confines of New Orleans right now” to be “now and forever a native New Orleanian.” He went on to note that, by one measure at least, it was shaping up to be a big Mardi Gras. “Already this year...,” he announced, “you have produced 25% more litter...than you did last year.” Amid more cheers, Morial added: “And I will not ask you to keep littering, but I will implore you to keep having a great time in New Orleans!”

He then offered a tribute to Glapion, recognizing the fallen Zulu monarch “for all of his service to this city and to its people and, especially, its children.” (Prior to his election to the City Council in 1993, Glapion, known to his friends as “Glap” or “Coach,”  served for 36 years as an educator and athletic coach with the New Orleans Parish School System.) (For more on Glapion, click here.)

Desireé Glapion Rogers, Zulu Public Relations Chairman  Nick Harris (center) and Mayor Marc Morial at Aquarium Plaza It was impossible not to be mindful of the absence of King Zulu 2000. Photo © 2000 Dan Allen

It is customary for the Zulu King to select his queen. It so happened that Mardi Gras 2000 was the second time Rogers had enjoyed the honor, having reigned as Queen Zulu in 1988. Addressing the crowd at Aquarium Plaza, she congratulated everyone “for making it to this city and making it to this spot, because this is where the party is!”   Then, on behalf of herself and her late father, she wished all a happy Mardi Gras. “Have a safe day tomorrow,” she said,” and I look forward to seeing each and every one of you. And,” she added, referring to the prized throw of the Zulu organization, “good luck gettin’ a coconut!”

A short time later, Rex and his entourage arrived by Coast Guard cutter at Spanish Plaza. Because his identity was still secret—later that night, on local TV news, his majesty was revealed to be Harry Kelleher Jr.—he appeared before his royal subjects fully masked. Introduced by Master of Ceremonies Errol Laborde, Rex, King of Carnival, reading from a prepared statement, waxed poetic:

“Since his last presence in this capitol of his mystical kingdom, Rex has ventured far and wide to the outer circles of the royal realm, visiting the purple mountains of western Carolina, the verdant valleys of Charlottesville, Virginia, the golden plains of Clemson, South Carolina, and the dazzling dunes of the Florida Panhandle. While I’ve appreciated the bounteous beauty of these splendiferous sights, Rex has, nonetheless, pined mightily for his heart and soul: the city of New Orleans!”

The Monarch of Merriment then announced he would make a “brief” proclamation and, in a whimsical flourish, unfurled a lengthy scroll. “It is hereby ordered and decreed that for the duration of this celebration, all commercial endeavors, save only those denominated in beads and doubloons, be suspended and that pleasure rule both day and night,” it read in part. “Here’s where we bring in Mardi Gras,” Laborde told the crowd. Then, after a countdown, Rex and the mayor pushed down on a giant plunger. Foghorns wailed, a blaze of fireworks illuminated the sky over the river, and, as a medley of Mardi Gras songs blared from the PA system, the mayor and Rex danced a jig on stage. Stepping up to the microphone a short time later, Morial offered an unequivocal endorsement of the proclamation. “After careful consideration,” he said, “I hereby proclaim tomorrow as a day off and as a day of fun and frivolity. And I proclaim March 7th, 2000 to be Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I concur!”   “Here's where we bring in Mardi Gras,” Laborde told the crowd. Then, after a countdown, Rex and the mayor pushed down on a giant plunger. Foghorns wailed, a blaze of fireworks illuminated the sky over the river, and, as a medley of Mardi Gras songs blared from the PA system, the mayor and Rex danced a jig on stage. next page Page 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Rex, King of Carnival, reading his royal proclamation Let pleasure rule. Photo © 2000 Dan Allen The Monarch of Merriment and New Orleans'  "Mayor for Life" During the fireworks, they danced a jig. Photo © 2000 Dan Allen