M.O.M.s BALL : A Historical Perspective

(The following article written by Bunny Mathews, originally appeared in the March 2000 Offbeat Magazine under the article title: "M.O.M.s BALL Postpartum (In)Discretion")

The legendary Mom's Ball, like the majority of celebrations organized by Carnival Krewes, is rightfully veiled in purple, green and gold secrecy. M.O.M.s' Most Exalted Highness is King Quasimodo the Megamillionth and Queen Inertia the Inumuerable. Admittance is by invitation only, costumes de rigueur.

On the condition of anonymity, a M.O.M.s Founding Father agreed to discuss the krewe's paternity as we dined on flesh (prime filets) at Crescent City Steakhouse.

The key thing to M.O.M.s was a couple of things. One, you had to grow up in New Orleans to begin with. Because M.O.M.s was originally intended to be king cake party and it was a re-creation of whatever that junior high school mating ritual was. And it just got too big and it got out of hand and became something else.

But sort of more importantly was - growing up at that time (circa late 60's), we were sort of a cusp where...I went to dances at Laborers' Union Hall and Germania Hall where local R&B artists were featured - those [high school] fraternity parties. Typically, they would have a band like Tommy Ridgley or something. The first set they would have a guest - Benny Spellman maybe. And then during the break, the Aubry Twins would play and the second set, they would have Irma Thomas or some other guest. That was the stuff that I came to accept as normal and took for granted.

All our friends were in British cover bands - Lady Chatterly's Lover, the Cellar Door, and the Basement Wall. Somewhere along the line, we all kind of disregarded local music as trite - it was just there. The big deal - the push - was the Beatles. Did you go to see the Jimi Hendrix concert in City Park? You were one of like 2,000 people maybe? Probably not that many local. That for me, was the end of local music and the beginning of this other thing.

It ended for me when I went from New Orleans to Lafayette, to dodge the draft, to San Francisco and it all ended there. I freaked-out. I did whatever you were supposed to do and came back home and wound up taking hot baths for five hours and staring at the wall. And wound up at UNO - UNO was filled with people who had all gone to New York or San Francisco and had all come home and were taking hot baths for five hours and staring at the wall.

There were no music clubs. - Geralds was gone, Beaconette was gone. Gerald's became Fat Harry's. Those fraternity dances didn't exist anymore. All of the local music seemed to be cover bands of British pop or San Francisco acid rock. What happened for me is that I go to re-know Ed Volker [prior to the formation of the Radiators] and Ed was going through the same thing. He had gone off to the West Coast with the Dogs and had come back and was listening to early New Orleans stuff - Archibald and Smiley Lewis. I would go over to his house and listen to that stuff. And it just reminded me of the music that was played at king cake parties.

I don't know whose idea it was but we decided we were going to have a king cake party. Do you remember Jeff Ampolsk? He was a good friend of mine but a really bad folk musician. We were going to have this king cake party at his house on Carrolton Avenue - a big raised double.

As precursor to this - nobody knew how to dance anymore. San Francisco music just required gyrating. There was no couples dancing going on so we were going to have dance lessons. I have an elder sister, four years older than me who dances - she was from that groove. She was going to teach people to dance. And we were going to hire a set of parents to hang out.

One of the bartenders we knew was in a fraternity and he said that his fraternity used to give parties at the VFW Hall on Franklin and Treasure. And for a hundred bucks, they'd clean the place up. So Jeff Ampolsk lobbied for us to move it from his house to VWF Hall. When that happened, it became a ball. Because now we actually had to rent the hall and hire a band. We moved from someone's basement with records playing - to this other thing.

The name came from the year before. Two friends of mine - Buzz Fitzgerald and Fast Ed Desporte - on Christmas Day, went to A&G Cafeteria and bought a turkey and trimmings and went to Jimmy Anselmo's bar - Brothers, I think it was called. They fed whoever walked in the bar on Christmas Day. That was their deal. And it was called the "Orphans and Misfits Annual Christmas Dinner." Their thinking was that if nobody invited you to Christmas dinner, you had to be a serious reprobate.

The next year, they called Anselmo up and said, "Look, this is the Orphans and Misfits Christmas Organization - we want to know if you're going to be open Christmas Day because we want to bring a turkey and some stuffing over." And Anselmo said, "Yeah, come on over - just don't bring any kids!" And then they didn't do it.

So now we had a party and the party needed a name and moved from being a king cake party to being a ball so now we had the Orphans and Misfits Ball. Because the anagram fit - it was easier to assemble the Krewe of Mystic Orphans and Misfits and wind up with M.O.M.s.

The first year there were 30 people who put up 20 bucks a piece and the budget was $600. Paul Varisco and the Milestones played. We had three kegs of beer and wine.

The original idea was that people weren't costuming anymore - costuming was passe. I was much too hip. As a kid, I was forced to wear costumes - begrudgingly. I secretly loved it.

So the deal was that to get into the M.O.M.s Ball, anybody could come but you had to wear a costume to get in. That was your showing some effort to be part of the party. And it still holds true today: if you can make people wear costumes, baste them well and put them in front of a band, ya got Mardi Gras.

The secret to good Mardi Gras - if there's a difference b/w good Mardi Gras and bad Mardi Gras - is that it's a participatory event. That you are not only a spectator but the show as well. If you put on a costume, that happens. Something magical happens, something very primitive, something very tribal happens when people put on masks. They become other people.

It happens to me - I know. I gotta watch what kinda costume I design because I wind up being whoever that character is. That's a good thing. That was the big success of M.O.M.s.