The record changer (Mar-Dec 1947)

THE RECORD CHANCER RECORD EXCHANGE SECTION BEGINS ON PAGE SEVENTEEN JAZZ PARADE Carnival in New Orleans The hand of Huey Long is still in evidence here and there along the seemingly endless miles of thinly populated bayou country along the way from Shreveport to New Orleans. There are the million dollar bridges, impressive steel cable suspensions, spanning crooked little creeks of the Louisiana jungle. There are the bronze plaque dedications to political regimes posted on all the public works improvements that incongruously dot the mossy, southern landscape : on bridges, electric towers, booster pump stations, at paved highway beginnings. There was no transition in the landscape coming into New Orleans. It was wild jungle to the city's suburbs. The suburb ended abruptly, as it had made its appearance, and we found ourselves caught in the traffic of a very big city. The street lamps and wires were hung with drapery and banners of yellow, purple and orange bunting. There were roped-off sections of sidewalk and reviewing stands decorated in the same colors. Street-car islands were flanked with colossal cardboard clowns painted. "Hail Rex" 's and "Welcome Visitors" were everywhere, but almost obscured by the forest of flags. As it got dark and the lights began to come on, the carnival atmosphere intensified. And it was still two days before Mardi Gras. It was difficult getting across Canal Street and out of the uptown crowds. The car had to be deserted somewhere between Basin and the little one-way streets of the French Quarter. We walked down Royal Street enthralled by its cobbled pavement and the moulding, ancient architecture. It was utterly fantastic and certainly not American — not of this century — not of this world, really. We made an extended search of the water front and all of the out-of-the-way corners of the Vieux Carre, but in vain. All reservations had been taken for months. In the courtyards, old slave quarters that hadn't been used since Civil War days were now sleeping accommodations for visitors. During our search there was the compensation of the big glass of Jax Beer for only a dime at broken-down bars that were little more than barrel houses. Outside a Burgundy Street dive we were button-holed by an over-exuberant, very tipsy celebrator who insisted on giving us his New Orleans : "See those buildings? They're old— old! That's what makes 'em good!" Then he embraced the pink, weather patined brick wall with a wide hug and a wet kiss. As a last resort we looked up some friends of friends who gra AUGUST, 1947 ciously took us in. They were New Orleanians : Real Creole ladies : Madame Briant and her two spinster daughters. How they loved to charm us, offer fresh coffee on the hour and reflect on New Orleans history and Carnivals they'd seen years ago ("Carnival" is used in preference to the term "Mardi Gras" by New Orleanians). They couldn't do enough for our comfort. Madame clipped the daily parade schedules out of the Picayune and placed them beside my plate every morning ; Marie or Madame would volunteer a piece of information or answer a question during polite conversation and sister would chime in with elaboration or complete, indignant disagreement about this point or that. It was Gumbo Ya Ya — they all chattered at once making a piquant, polyphonic ensemble — New Orleans style. Right after breakfast (Mangoes fried in butter, etc.!) we left hurriedly in order to catch every parade. Between parades we tried practically every restaurant in the Vieux Carre. When there was time, we drove out to Lake Ponchartrain or Gretna. When we were not hungry we sat at a sidewalk table at the Cafe du Monde. It was just like Paris except that instead of aperitif or a liqueur, coffee was served. We had hundreds Contents; minor hall speaks By Minor Hall 5 the anthropologist looks back By Ernest Borneman 6 dixieland piano By J. Russel Robinson 7 records noted By Jim Higgins 9 knocky-knocky By Charles Richards II farrago By Edward Hill 36 record exchange section: Advertisers' Addresses 16 Records for Disposition 19 Records Wanted 22 Collectors' Display Ads 24 of cups during the ten day stay — everything from thick, jet black with chicory to big soup bowl cups of light cafe au lait. In spite of the season, the weather was summery ; it didn't rain, and few Mardi Gras are without rain because of the season. We even tanned a little, what with everything seeming to take place outside, even some of the meals. The food is unique — la Cuisine Creole is an easy match for France's Haute Cuisine. The Gumbos at Arnaud's are poetry — and inexpensive. Coq au vin at Toujaques (called "Two Jacks" in New Orleans) is delightful, but no more so than the soup meat with Sauce Madame Begue on the same dinner. Vichysoisse at Antoine's is unbeliev ably delicious. The pleasure of opening and eating oysters at the little oyster bars is indescribable. The other restaurants which cater to the city's residents more than to tourists, have specialties such as Crayfish Bisque and Shrimp stuffed Eggplant. The little lunch rooms behind the French market, where the dock hands eat, have Gumbo File and red beans and long grained rice cooked to perfection. In the Italian section we had three pound Po' Boy sandwiches, consisting of a fresh loaf of bread sliced longitudinally with a Dagwood pile of various cheeses from France, Greece and Italy stacked with six kinds of aromatic meats. People walk along the streets eating these with a bottle of red wine tucked under arm. On Mardi Gras day maskers carrying their glasses of champagne or highballs along the streets from bar to bar were a common sight. From early morning till Mardi Gras Ball was over at midnight, the streets of the French Quarter were crowded with celebrators. The carnival atmosphere was citywide but in the Quarter there were fewer inhibitions and much drinking. Things were far gayer, noisier, and traditionally more bizarre. This was the day of the Rex Parade, the biggest and most elaborate of all. It climaxes all the other parades which had been going on for three days past. For us, though, the night parades lit by flares and torches were equally impressive. We found the Zulu Parade to be the most interesting. It began at seven in the morning and took unpredictable paths until it joined the end of the Rex Parade. Only (Continued on Page 13)