Generaly Interest Review 00003

Second Lines

Second Lines are a variety of parade originating in the historically black neighborhoods of New Orleans. They often roll on Sunday afternoons (after church and, if possible, before the Saints game), and are striking for the amount of fun they bring with some very limited resources. This ain't Mardi Gras by any stretch of the imagination. The total parade is usually one float, a brass band, and a gaggle of people dressed up in their finest dancing like absolutely everyone is watching. Second Lines originate through organizations known as Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs. Back when, people in black communities formed the clubs so they could pool their resources to ensure a proper burial for all. That's where the popular New Orleans jazz funeral came from. Now 'days, the clubs host parades through the neighborhood on a given Sunday. The idea, ostensibly, is to celebrate themselves. But no one thinks too hard. The members of the club dress in matching suits and march in front of the brass band, fully getting down throughout and literally stepping out for their club. The name second line refers to the onlookers, who in this case actually walk with the parade and, of course, get the heck down. Since the parades are so small, the street talk has just left the second line as the name of the parade, but actually you're not going to a second line...you're going to second line a parade.

Grammar matters little when you're in the thick of it. The drums and tuba are in lockstep driving the parade onward, and all that's really left to do when the horns kick in is, well, get down. The author went to check one out yesterday, intending on standing as it passed due to dreary conditions. As the parade was upon, he couldn't help but get swept up and walk with the thing for a little less than a mile. The closest comparison to what it feels like to be in the middle is any large dance number from a musical where normal people are moved to join in the song. People run up on porches to show off their moves, dance in unison, and make sure they are with drink. And the matching suits. And the whole neighborhood comes out.

It's really hard to overstate how these simple, fairly small parades breathe life into some of the roughest streets in our fine country. They bring a color to the streets that isn't seen now like it was in the days of yore. The economic troubles in these areas are probably unmatched, but organizers know they need this to somehow keep the city from fully getting away from them. Sure, New Orleans kids have always been all about picking up a horn. But what do they have to look forward to if they haven't got anywhere to play it on Sunday. And to thnk about this as ingrained culture makes it even wilder. It's expected that it'll happen here. Sure as the buck moth catepillars will fall out of the tree every spring.

As the author was walking home from yesterday's parade he encountered another non-native of the area. They talked about how second lines are what church should be. On Sunday afternoon, everyone forgets their problems, dances together on the street, and makes a big old commotion. Just for the heck of it.