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“… Here They Come!”     

In the three months following the Ambush, the Mardi Gras Indian Council met regularly with community education and support groups to strategize a formal response. These meetings culminated in the 27 June hearing called by city councilman-at-large Oliver Thomas. In attendance were the mayor and members of the city council; representatives of all of the city’s Mardi Gras Indian tribes; as well as about 350 members of the general public. Also present were New Orleans Police Department representatives, including superintendent Eddie Compass and  6th District captain Anthony Canatella.

Montana was in the middle of recounting a history of police harassment and abuse when stricken. His now famous last words were, “I want this to stop!” Television news cameras captured his fall as the chiefs and others took up the traditional hymn, “Indian Red.”      

In the seven minutes before the ambulance arrived, Compass administered CPR. In cases of sudden cardiac arrest, however, a defibrillator is often also needed. In the days immediately following Chief Tootie’s death, city government was taken to task, in both television and print media reports, for failing to have a defibrillator on hand.

This life-saving device works by delivering electric shock to correct the heart's rhythm as quickly as possible. The small, user-friendly model is now as commonplace in public buildings as fire alarms and smoke-detectors. Local medical personnel made public statements on air and in print asserting that having one of these devices within immediate reach in those crucial minutes might well have saved the chief’s life.

 

“To Wake the Nations”

                In the two weeks between the time Montana died and the wake and funeral services, reports of his life, work and especially the manner of his death were told and retold. Investment broker and photographer Jacques Morial was among those present at the council chambers when Montana collapsed. “He was at the podium, surrounded by all of the other chiefs, looking the council and police brass in the eye, totally composed, as he recounted more than a half century of police abuse and harassment… .Tootie died ever a warrior, speaking truth to power in a room of … people who loved and respected him,” said Morial.

                Members of the New Orleans cultural community worked with the Montana family to provide a funeral ceremony that would celebrate the life and work of the chief, as well as illustrate the central role of Mardi Gras Indian tradition to New Orleans life and culture. When arrangements were finalized, it was announced that a wake, or public visitation, would be held at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre of the Performing Arts in Armstrong Park, beginning at 6:00 p.m. on Friday 8 July. A second visitation would be held at St. Augustine’s Church from 8:00 until 10:00 Saturday morning, with funeral mass immediately following.

                Presided over by Rev. Dwight Webster of Christian Unity Baptist Church, the wake and the program that followed lasted until just past 10:00 p.m. The celebration included prayer, the pouring of libations, music, dance and poetry. Montana’s casket stood at the center front of the theatre, framed by suits and crowns from years past, and flanked by a changing honor guard that included uniformed members of the Fruit of Islam.

                The ceremony opened with an extended drum solo by Tarik Smith II. Mardi Gras Indians then performed a special “shaking of the tambourines” tribute to the Chief of Chiefs, a title of special reverence bestowed on Montana following his (first) retirement in 1997.

                Tambourine and Fan, a social aid and civic organization founded in 1970, led the speakers in “shouts of thanks.” Among the long line of those offering personal remarks were councilman Oliver Thomas, poet and publisher Kalamu ya Salaam and Mardi Gras Indian scholar Maurice Martinez.

                Cherice Harrison-Nelson presented the Mardi Gras Indian Hall of Fame Golden Feather to the Montana family. The hand-carved feather in gold with black trim is enclosed in a black shadowbox. It is the handiwork of master carver Rudy Bougere, Jr. Symbolizing the “golden crown” of Indian lore, it is given in memory of a “fallen chief.”

                Longtime Xavier University administrator Sybil Morial offered a statement of comfort to the family. She also read from a letter written by her elder son and former New Orleans mayor Marc Morial to the widow, Joyce Montana. Referring to the chief as “a New Orleans cultural treasure,” the letter goes on to assert:

… Mardi Gras Indian culture [must] be nurtured, loved, respected, celebrated and invested in and not disrespected and disrupted as some in officialdom would do these days. New Orleans must embrace the Mardi Gras Indian Culture without reservation, and with the clear understanding that it is a part of our history, and one of the reasons why New Orleans culture is special, unique and treasured worldwide.”

               

Perhaps the most telling remarks, however, were those made by Tambourine and Fan founder and longtime political and cultural activist, Jerome Smith. Smith’s first presentation was a testimonial to his long friendship with Montana, which dates back to the younger man’s childhood. Returning to the stage somewhat later, however, he made a lengthier, more impassioned statement against the appropriation of Black culture by whites for personal gain and monetary profit. He railed against the racism that denigrates Mardi Gras Indian traditions. The sole reason for Rex’s rule over the city’s Carnival celebration, Smith declared, is that he is white.

He pointed to Montana’s unsurpassed artistry – a new and more splendid suit every year for five decades.  He catalogued his many talents. By contrast,  he pointed out, “Rex can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t make a suit! Now you tell me, who’s the true King of Carnival?” The audience responded in unison, “Chief Tootie!” This same white racism that denies the central role of Mardi Gras Indian culture, Smith stated, led to the St. Joseph’s Night Ambush.

               

 

“Into Gloryland”

                A highlight among the musical tributes was Wilson “Willie Tee” Turbinton’s performance of his 1974 composition “New Suit,” now a Carnival staple. Originally composed for the first ever recording of the Wild Magnolias, the song was a fitting tribute to the Chief of Chiefs admired by all as “the prettiest.” Tenor John Boutté was later accompanied by Turbinton in a rendition of the gospel standard “Gloryland” that was both poignant and uplifting.

                When the removal of the chief’s remains was announced, Darryl Montana, chief of the Yellow Pocahantas since his father’s retirement, spoke briefly. He remarked on the overwhelming expressions of  love and respect offered by people known and unknown to him as he moved about the city in the days following his father’s death. He talked about the beauty and seriousness of his father’s commitment to the culture. Alluding to his own role as chief, the younger Montana said simply, “Since I could never fill my father’s shoes, I’ll have to create my own.” The theatre burst into applause. The ritual singing, dancing, drumming and tambourine shaking began then, and continued out into Armstrong Park.

                On the following morning, a Mass for Christian burial was held at St. Augustine’s Roman Catholic Church, where Montana was a life-long parishioner. The final services were attended primarily by family, friends and parishioners. Readings were offered by younger members of the Montana family. Juanita Brooks, Father Jerome LeDoux and the St. Augustine’s church choir offered musical selections. Councilwoman Jackie Clarkson and Mayor Ray Nagin made brief remarks, with the mayor pledging a city memorial to honor the chief’s cultural and civic legacy.

                Outside the church, the crowd spread out along St. Claude Street across Esplanade Avenue and along Gov. Nicholls Street from Claiborne Avenue to Rampart Street. By 11:30 the midday heat had reached 93 degrees. Peddlers hawked iced drinks, sunhats and white kerchieves bearing Chief Tootie’s likeness. Mardi Gras Indians in full regalia made their way along St. Claude and Gov. Nicholls streets. They came from uptown and downtown, and ranged from in age from retired laborers to teens and infants in arms.

          The mourners exited the church just after 1:00 p.m. There were eight active pallbearers, including big chiefs Walter Cook and Thomas Sparks, and an unprecedented 103 honorary pallbearers. NOPD officers were noticeably absent. A motorcade of two squad cars and six motorcycles was provided by the Orleans Criminal Sheriff’s Office.

A black, horse-drawn carriage transported the remains of the chief from the church along St. Claude Avenue to St. Bernard Avenue. From there, the procession turned onto North Claiborne and entered St. Louis Cemetery #2. Following the interment, a repast, sponsored by criminal sheriff Marlin Gusman, was served at the nearby Tremé Community Center.

 

“Hear Me Talkin’”            

                On Saturday afternoon just prior to the wake, the WWOZ Radio World Music Show aired a special segment on Chief Tootie. Hosted by Maryse DéJean, the show featured excerpts from interviews with the chief conducted by New Orleans author Keith Medley as research for articles published in 2000 in  American Legacy and the New Orleans Tribune.

                The show included Mardi Gras Indian music, including several renditions of “Indian Red.” It also featured a Yellow Pocahontas practice session recorded at the Renaissance Bar in 2000, with commentary by the author. At a time when so many people were talking about Montana, Medley said, he felt it was only appropriate to allow the chief to speak for himself.

                Montana was a hard-liner for his art and all that it symbolized. He had been a craftsman all his life and his hands showed it. A lather by trade, he built and installed the wooden, metal or wire support structures to which plaster is applied in buildings. He pointed with pride to structures on which he had worked. And he talked at length about how his trade and craft fed one another.

                He took pride in a job well done. It was not enough that a suit be beautiful to the eye. A lifetime working in construction had taught him that the foundation of a building was more important than its exterior. Weak, poorly installed lath-work could only yield weak, poorly aligned walls. The structure would not hold. And Montana would not countenance shoddy workmanship. Observers commented often on the eye-catching three-dimensional elements of his suits. What they could not see, however, was that a Montana suit was as cleanly finished inside as it was out. “There’s no limit,” he said “to what I can do with a suit.”

                In the interview, he talked about the effect that the reception of his first truly beautiful suit had on him. When he stepped from his doorstep, he said, “that whole block, everybody said ‘Aww’ at one time. Boy, when they said that, it looked like it put life in my body… . I felt obligated to the public. I wanted to give them as much as I could give them. And since they appreciated me, that was my way of showing my appreciation. To give y’all something pretty again.”

                In addition to the awe-inspiring beauty of his suits, Montana was revered for his far-reaching knowledge of Mardi Indian history. He was a stickler for accuracy and detail. Refusing either to soft-pedal or to embroider the truth, he did not hesitate to point out inaccuracies and fabrications. “I tell the truth. If it’s something I don’t know, then I don’t know… .When people read something, unless they get the truth, they got nothing.” 

He kept an amazing catalogue of people, places and events. And he could chronicle changes in attitudes, practices, as well as sewing and beadwork habits of the Indians going back to the turn of the century. His own legacy dates to the early days of masking. Historian Maurice Martinez identifies Montana’s great-uncle Becate Batiste, masking in the 1880’s, as the first Black New Orleanian to don an Indian suit at Carnival time.

 

  
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