What the heck is a narrator?

It is fairly safe to say that the vast majority of this blog's readers have no concept of what a narrator is. With the New Orleans Carnival ball season in full swing, I am back on schedule as the narrator of several ball tableaux manuscripts, which I also write. The hard work that goes into planning and executing a Carnival ball requires a number of key figures including the krewe's captain and officers, an orchestra leader, the manuscript writer, and lighting and set designers. A manuscript's theme is decided upon by the krewe and then researched by the manuscript writer. Later, music and lighting cues are added to accompany the entrance of the dukes, maids, officers, king and queen and, possibly, krewe members. Once a manuscript is completed, it is copied and distributed to a host of committee men who are busy behind the scenes at the ball preparing the participants, the lighting and sound technicians and to the narrator who reads the tableaux before the crowd that is extended strictly personal invitations to attend. The narrator's duty is to work with the orchestra leader in determining when to cut or soften the music that accompanies all action. He introduces all of the action and announces the arrival of the royal court, the captain, the officers of the krewe or the krewe itself. The narrator is also responsible to start the ball with the blow of his whistle (for the captain), which is the symbol of authority over the krewe. Following the ball, a lavish supper dance is typically held and festivities go on until the wee hours of the morning. This is part of the culture of the city and is a tradition to which many long-time residents cleave. It is fun, but for those of us who take this Carnival foolishness seriously, it is also hard work. Remember that pronounciations are key. If a narrator mispronounces a name, he will never be forgiven by the participant or her relatives. You have one chance at getting it right and hundreds of opportunities to blow it. Last night I narrated the 81st annual Krewe of Iris Carnival ball, the oldest ladies krewe in New Orleans. The theme this year was "Give My Regards to Broadway" and krewe members and the royal court wore costumes designed to recall past and present Broadway smashes. After it ended, I was invited to the supper dance at another location across town, which lasted past 4:00 a.m. Tonight brings the Coronation Ball of the Krewe of Okeanos, where one of seven maids will have an opportunity to become queen. The process is an unusual one, because it is strictly by chance that the identity of the queen becomes known. In most Carnival krewes the identity of the king and queen for that year is known in advance and announced publicly at their coronation balls. At the Okeanos Coronation Ball, the maids each pick a closed box containing a bouquet of red roses inside. As narrator, I direct the maids with their dukes at their sides to open the box and hold the bouquet in front of them. In all the bouquets there is one rose covered by silk damask. In one bouquet the covered flower is not red, but is a yellow rose. Whoever has selected that bouquet is queen. It is, of course, very exciting and has often created some interesting outcomes. As an example, in one year a sister of the queen from the previous year selected the box containing the bouquet with the yellow rose. Since the queen from the previous year rides on a float the following year, both sisters were able to toast each other at the official reviewing stand at Gallier Hall. That's the stuff of Carnival lore and part of why the job of a narrator is interesting, to say the least. It's also why I am so tired today, but with a very short season (Mardi Gras is February 5), there is little time to breathe between now and then.