# New Orleans: Indian red is the anthemic sound of tradition: Photos, Videos

- Link: https://jazzblues.eu/2019/04/01/new-orleans-indian-red-is-the-anthemic-sound-of-tradition-photos-videos/
- Published: 2019-04-01T18:00:20+01:00
- Author: https://JazzBlues.EU

**For well more than a century, being in New Orleans for Carnival Day and other 
cultural events has meant at least two things: seeing groups of African-Americans
parading in spectacular regalia inspired by Native American motifs, and hearing 
an anthemic song that brings them together in good times and bad. The first recording
of “Indian Red,” sometimes called “My Indian Red,” dates back to the 1940s, but 
the song’s history goes far deeper.**

“Indian Red” has as many variations as the Mardi Gras Indians themselves. Their 
tradition honors a friendship with Native Americans that some say dates back to 
slavery, when the two cultures are believed to have exchanged many kindnesses. After
Reconstruction, the Mardi Gras Indian tradition became more representative of the
African-Americans who take part each year: an expression of self-love and self-pride,
with an emphasis on African religious and cultural origins.

Oliver Thomas, a former city councilman who now hosts a daily radio talk show in
New Orleans, remembers following Mardi Gras Indian tribes as a child, each name 
as splendiferous as the next: The Yellow Pocahontas, the Ninth Ward Hunters, the
Golden Eagles, Fi Yi Yi and many more.

“In the Seventh Ward there was a yellow and white outfit — I don’t even remember
who it was — that was so beautiful, man,” Thomas recalls. “I think it was a Mardi
Gras that was dreary and the weather was bad. So whoever that Indian was, he brought
the sunshine.”

The suits are vital. But the power that the Mardi Gras Indians exude when they walk
the streets and sing is spiritual, as well — and mysterious. “Indian Red” opens 
with the phrase “_Mighty cooty fiyo_!” No self-respecting Mardi Gras Indian will
say what that means, but make no mistake — this is a warrior’s anthem.

I visited Big Chief Lil Charles Taylor of the White Cloud Hunters in his living 
room, where he has plumes, satin and feathers on display. Like any good Mardi Gras
Indian, he hand-sews his suits. Taylor says he’s been parading — except in times
of illness — since he was 2 years old. He’s 65 this year.

“The first song you would always want to learn is Indian Red — that’s the prayer,”
Taylor says. “You sing as your tribe is beginning to leave, to hit the street. And
the whole object of it is to hope that they all come back.”

Sounds dire, right? It kind of is: There’s plenty of rivalry on the street between
Mardi Gras Indian chiefs — and their tribes. “I seen an Indian hit another Indian
with a hatchet in his face — hit him right in the center of his forehead with that
hatchet,” Taylor says. Part of a chief’s responsibility, he explains, is to keep
the peace.

[[

Big Chief Lil Charles Taylor of the White Cloud Hunters at his home in New Orleans.
Taylor gives classes at the nearby Ellis Marsalis Center for Music, teaching children
to sew in the tradition.

GWEN THOMPKINS FOR NPR

There’s a lot less violence now between Mardi Gras Indians, and a lot more trash
talk. But tribes are still wary of police: In 2012, the New Orleans Police Department
was placed under a federal consent decree brought on by a history of biased policing
and civil rights abuses. When relations were poor, the Mardi Gras Indians stood 
up for themselves, heeding the spirit of a line from “Indian Red”: “_We won’t bow
down, not on that ground_.”

Katy Reckdahl has reported on the situation for more than a decade. “The NOPD was
very out of control, and I think that a lot of what was happening was just racism,”
she argues. “Majority white in mindset, maybe, not majority white in actual demographics.
There were black and white police officers that were part of the problem.”

Allison Montana — aka Big Chief Tootie Montana of the Yellow Pocahontas — helped
bring about peace in our time. Decades ago, Montana (who died in 2005) began urging
the tribes to drop their animosities toward each other. He encouraged them to concentrate
on other Mardi Gras Indian traditions: sewing, dancing and singing the repertoire
right.

But does this old song sound _too _old today? Cherice Harrison-Nelson is the daughter,
and sister of Mardi Gras Indian chiefs, a queen of the tribe Guardians of the Flame
and a school teacher. She says she and her family have decided to drop the words“
Indian Red” when they sing the song.

“It’s not right for us to sing, because we know better. I don’t know how many Native
Americans would call themselves Indian Red,” she says. “Everything else about the
song, I love. We sing ‘Guarding the flame’ [instead], and that’s what we teach our
children.”

Other Mardi Gras Indians will have to decide for themselves. For his part, Lil Charles
Taylor — who is preparing for his final year as big chief of the White Cloud Hunters—
says he’s not changing a word of the song. He’s performed at Carnegie Hall, in Paris,
at the Smithsonian, and on the National Mall. He’s sewn his suits through hurricanes,
a hernia, a liver transplant and divorce.

“I enjoyed it the whole time I took part. It was a pleasure and I’ll always love
it because I’m an Indian myself. But once I retire next year, that will be it. I
think I’ve done my duties,” he says.

Taylor’s final suit will be peach, the only color he’s never worn. He’s already 
sewing.

![Mardi Gras Indian Big Chief Monk Boudreaux (right) and members of his Golden Eagles
tribe in March 2019 in New Orleans.](https://i0.wp.com/mediad.publicbroadcasting.
net/p/shared/npr/styles/placed_wide/nprshared/201904/706029591.jpg?w=640)

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