Balls are essentially expanded versions of the parties people living in New Orleans have been having to celebrate Carnival since the city was founded. You'd get your family together, invite some other folks from the neighborhood, and have a dance. After a few years, you keep expanding the celebration to the point where you need a committee to plan everything. Those committee became little social clubs in and of themselves. By now, the dance has become a real serious formal blow-out. The social club decides on a theme for the dance, and presents a tableau, or a story that relates to the theme. To present the story, a number of the participants are designated to dress up in fancy costumes and march around the dance floor. After a few years of doing tableau, particpating in the story becomes a prestigious thing, particularly among the young women. The dance has become large and formal enough for the planners to choose a king and queen to preside over it, in imitation of pagan and medieval Christian Mardi Gras feasts. The young ladies who participate in the tableau were named as ladies-in-waiting to the queen, or maids. The men were given the title of Duke. Families were spending a lot of money on the costumes and decorations for the ball, so they naturally wanted to invite lots of folks to come see their daughters participate in the tableau. This meant a big public hall would have to be acquired to hold the ball.

After a couple of generations of having these balls, the traditions and customs became set down into a fairly standardized format. In the 19th century through the early 20th century, Carnival balls were held in the Old French Opera House, until it burned down. They were then moved to the Municipal Auditorium, which was the premier home of Carnival balls until 1992, when the New Orleans City Council decided that starting a fight with the "old-line" Carnival organizations over their membership policies was more important than finding a solution to the more serious problems of the city. With the government passing ordinances that were designed to force all-white social organizations to open their memberships, the krewes declined to hold their balls in a public accomodation such as the Municipal Auditorium. Now that the Auditorium is being renovated to become a casino, the remaining balls that use public facilities (in particular the all-black Carnival organizations, whose membership policies were not threatened, since the ordinance was deliberately written so they could continue to discriminate) have moved their celebrations to the Theatre of the Performing Arts, which is next to the Auditorium. Organizations such as the School of Design and Comus now use the ballrooms of some of the larger hotels in town for their balls.

The typical Carnival usually starts at 9:00pm and ends at midnight. The preparations, however begin hours before. Some krewes hold their ball the same night as their parade, so the parade route will start Uptown and end at the Auditorium. Not every krewe is able to hold their ball the same night as the parade, so those men will gather at the site of the ball around 5:00pm.

When balls were held in the Auditorium, the krewe members were able to use the extensive dressing rooms there. The men would sit down and relax with a happy hour drink or two. Then they grab a light supper of sandwiches, maybe red beans and rice or some gumbo, along with another drink or two. Valets would help them get into their costumes, making any last-minute alteratios necessary, as well as adjusting their plastic masks and generally getting them ready. While doing this, the men have another drink or two (beginning to see a pattern yet?) All this time, the captain and his officers are lieutenants are putting all of the pieces together, making sure the lighting, music, etc., are in order. By 8:45pm, the captain declares that everything is set and the krewe is ready to go out onto the dance floor. The waiters bring out champagne for everyone, and the krewe toasts their captain. Then they toast his lieutenants. Then the captain toasts the krewe. After topping off the champagne glasses one last time, the captain reminds everyone heading out onto the floor that there's no alcohol allowed on the floor during the ball. (Not really a big problem by now, is it?)

It's 9:00pm. The house lights dim, and the orchestra strikes up the krewe's theme music. (This varies from krewe to krewe--some are symphonic pieces, others are unique to the krewe, like the School of Design's use of "If Ever I Cease to Love" to welcome Rex.) The captain takes center stage, bows to the audience to welcome them. The krewe then marches out onto the floor (well, it's not really a march, but more like a second line. After all, nobody's in marching form after as much drinking as these guys have done.) Some krewes try to be a bit on the formal side, making the entrance quite humorous, while other krewes allow their members to throw some beads and doubloons to the crowd. The krewe parades around for a few minutes, then they all sit down on the ballroom floor. The officers of the krewe are introduced, then the tableau begins. An announcer begins the story, and pairs of dukes and maids are introduced at key points to illustrate the tale with their costumes. This is, of course, the high point of the evening for the young ladies of the court. Hopefully for them the gentleman from the krewe they're paired with doesn't embarass them. The climax of the tableau is the entrance of the king and queen of the ball. The tableau is then concluded, and the king, queen, and court prepare for the Grand March. Usually performed to the Trimumphal March from Verdi's "Aida," the king, queen, and court do a slow march around the ballroom floor for one or two circuits. Upon the conclusion of the march, the king and queen take their places on a throne set up on a dais, at which time various members of the court, krewe, and privileged public are presented to them, just like a real royal reception. One of the most memorable balls was in 1948, when the Duke and Duchess of Windsor visited the Crescent City and were presented to Rex and his consort. The man who had once worn the crown of the British Empire played the evening up to the hilt, bowing before the sovreign of the day just like the rest of his subjects.

While the presentations are taking place, the rest of the krewe usually begin the dancing. Dancing at a bal masque is also part of the ritual. The members of the krewe send out special invitations to young ladies, designating them as ladies they'd like to dance with at the ball. The invitation is supposed to be anonymous, of course. At the ball, the krewe member brings along a friend who is his "committeeman." The committeemen all dress in white tie and tails, and their job is to bring up the ladies to the dance floor and to the krewe members. When the committeemen were unable to recognize a lady by sight, they would call out their names. Thus, a lady invited to dance at a ball was said to have received a "call-out." It was traditional that the krewe member would give each of their call-outs a favor of some kind. Since the call-outs were anonymous, this gave krewe members who kept mistresses a chance to be with their ladies in public and bestow lavish little gifts on them as favors. Of course, they'd also have to buy lavish little gifts for their wives. There are lots of stories of krewe members who have had a bit too much to drink and mixed up gifts, or float riders who have thrown expensive ball favors to the crowd on Canal Street.

There are usually five or so call-out dances, then the floor is opened up to general dancing for the rest of the evening. This brings the celebration up to close to midnight, when things become a bit more formal. The band strikes up a finale, and the captain marshals the krewe and court for the final march off of the dance floor. The court make their final bows, the krewe marches out, leaving the captain, who then takes a final solitary bow to conclude the ball.

The evening is far from over for the krewe, however. Most members retire from the ballroom to private breakfasts at various homes, or even at selected restaurants. Needless to say, few (if any) of the participants are at work the next day!

Time was when almost every krewe (including the ladies' krewes) held a ball, but many people found them to be too stuffy and boring. Guests were segregated from the krewe by having to sit in the balcony of the Auditorium. All they could do was watch; no dancing allowed. And for the privilege of watching, they had to get dressed up in formal attire. This didn't sit well with many krewes who have switched from formal balls to supper dances, where everyone gathers for a sit-down dinner party with a band and dancing. The court is usually presented, but without the formal tableau of the ball. The super krewes (Endymion, Bacchus, and newcomer Orpheus) have massive supper dances, in keeping with the size of the krewes. Endymion holds their Extravaganza in the Superdome, while Bacchus and Orpheus hold their dances in the Morial Convention Center. Bacchus used to hold their dance (called the "Rendevous") in the Rivergate, but that building is now no more, as it's being torn down to make way for the new downtown casino. Holding a supper dance allows krewe members to sit and party with their guests and families. For krewes that aren't involved with debutantes and "society," these dances have worked out well.

Balls and supper dances are private parties, so they're not something a visitor to the city can just add into their schedules. Visitors who work for companies or firms that have offices in New Orleans may be able to make some sort of arrangements with the locals to get invitiatons. Many companies will buy a table or two for the Endymion and Bacchus supper dances, so it's worth investigating. A couple of the krewes (Orpheus and Tucks) open their dances to the public, and you can buy tickets from Ticketmaster or some such. If that interests you, e-mail me and I'll look up the details for you.

Carnival's detractors will tell you it's just a drunken brawl, but the balls, dances, and other parties held by krewes are really just events for extended families. Family is important in New Orleans, and even more so at Carnival time.