Conceited Jewish supremacists love to celebrate their ‘Davidic’ royalty in the Mardi Gras Ball and other parodies on Mardi Gras Day
I’ve previously pointed out that the reprobate Jews have been obsessed with installing a fake ‘Davidic’ king on what they say is Israel’s King David’s throne, ever since they nationally rejected God’s only begotten Davidic Son Jesus Christ and the gospel of their salvation, in the first century. Most notably in Ireland, Scotland, and England, where they arranged for the coronation of kings of that ilk on the Stone of Scone; and where the Jews had celebrated Britain as B’rithain or the Land of the Covenant (c.f., B’nai B’rith, meaning “sons of the covenant”) or a new Promised land, like the land of Israel, which is the true Jews by virtue of an ancient sacred covenant.
For while it’s well known that the wicked and treacherous Jews intend to shortly install the biblical end-time antichrist on what they say is “David’s” throne, in the city of Jerusalem; they have, of course, had to settle with second best, while in dispersion worldwide, by installing crypto-Semitic monarchs, ostensibly of Israel’s King David’s line, on the thrones of their Gentile host nations, in cities they’ve dubbed “New Jerusalems” and countries they’ve celebrated as new Promised Lands.
Many of you know that the Jews have celebrated the kings of the Frankish kingdoms and the kingdom of France as ostensibly Davidic kings; and likewise in weird places like Septimania, where the Jews had their own kingdom in the Middle Ages. But how many of you know that a conceited, wealthy dynasty of crypto-Semitic royals, of the ilk of Semites of the royal house of Anjou, has been celebrating their power in the politics of New Orleans for the international Jewry, in terms of the crass parody of Rex as king of the carnival on Mardi Gras Day?
Did you know that the first Rex of the New Orleans Mardi Gras was the Jew Lewis J. Solomon; and that when he was crowned Rex of the carnival in 1872, he was celebrated by superstitious Jews as another King Solomon?
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Popular culture and history have helped create the idea in the public imagination, that American Jews are northern city dwellers, mostly living in New York, who sound and act like Woody Allen. As southern Jewish historian Eli Evans points out, even northern Jews are hard pressed to believe that Jewish life exists, let alone thrives, south of the Mason Dixon Line. The fact is, over one million Jews live in the South, from tiny towns in Arkansas to booming metropolises like Atlanta. What about Louisiana? Are there Jewish communities around the state, and if so, how did they get here and what have their influences been?
Jewish life in Louisiana has been flourishing, largely under the radar for hundreds of years. While it has become conventional wisdom that Louisiana is the Creole State, with waves of settlement encompassing Native America, Europe, Africa, the Caribbean, and Canada, the story of Louisiana Jews is lesser known. Today, there are over 13,000 Jews in New Orleans alone, and Jewish communities are thriving in small towns across the state. There are Jewish cemeteries in such places as Berwick, Bogalusa, Farmerville, and Opelousas, and Jewish communities exist today in Natchitoches, Baton Rouge, Washington, Monroe, Shreveport, Lafayette, and many other towns.
Jews among the revellers on Mardi Gras Day
So, how did Jews get to Louisiana? Several people interviewed responded to this question with a story they had heard, and assumed to be true, about an unknown Jewish peddler who came to their small town. While there, his horse died, so he decided to stay. In fact, hundreds of Jewish peddlers, mostly from Eastern Europe, worked itinerantly around the South. There is a mystique that developed around these early “wandering American Jews.” They were seen as industrious and adaptable. They were the progenitors of the landed merchant class that many southern Jews became. The “Jew store,” as it came to be known in many communities, was often the one dry goods store in town, and the Jewish family that owned it, was sometimes the only Jewish family in the community. In fact, Jewish life in Louisiana precedes the arrival of 19th century peddlers by hundreds of years. Their arrival in the state continued a trend of Diasporic settlement that has its roots in the first century.
Since the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem in 70 A.D. and the expulsion of Jews from their Promised Land, Jewish communities have emerged and thrived in every corner of the globe. From Shanghai to the Seychelles, Jews were the “eternal strangers” living in a Diaspora that was supposed to eventually end with the return to Israel. Jews learned to adapt, acculturate and assimilate to the life around them, which was often hostile to their presence. They lived with the constant threat of persecution or, worse, expulsion from their new homes. No matter how successful they became, or how prominent they were in civic, political, or social life, there was always the prospect of banishment. This fractured existence was the Jewish way of life the world over for hundreds of years.
The 15th century Spanish Inquisition dealt a stunning blow to Jewish life in Europe, as Jews had risen to unprecedented levels of integration and prominence in European society. It was 1492, the year that Christopher Columbus was “sailing the ocean blue” to America. School textbooks, tell us little about the early colonists, but it turns out that right there on the boats with Columbus, were Portuguese and Spanish Jews-doctors, merchants, and advisors. It would be a couple hundred years before Jewish life was established in America in towns like St. Augustine, Florida, and Savannah, Georgia.
The first Jews came to Louisiana in the early 1700s. They were Spanish and Portuguese traders along the Gulf Coast, who came to this colonial outpost from the Caribbean. Other Portuguese Jewish settlers followed, forming the first Jewish congregation in Louisiana in 1828. Together, these Sephardic Jewish communities comprised the first wave of Jewish immigration to the state. Jewish life thrived, even during the time of the infamous “Black Code” of 1724, which decreed that Jews should be expelled from the Louisiana French colony.
The next wave of Jewish settlement in Louisiana came from Western Europe in the early to mid-19th century. Jews from Germany and Alsace-Lorraine settled in cities and towns all over the state, and brought with them a less traditionally observant practice of Judaism. The French-speaking Alsatian Jews, found a niche in the burgeoning Cajun communities in the southern part of the state, as fur traders who shared a common language. Ury Wainer, an older Jewish fur trader interviewed, described this little-known world of Jewish fur brokering. “We used to go out on the boats for a month at a time. We’d go from camp to camp and buy furs from the Cajun trappers. Then, we’d sell them to the fur dealers. They were comfortable with us because we spoke French.”
According to historical researcher Cathy Kahn, Jews “took on the coloration” of the people with whom they settled. So, it was that Hyman Salz, a fifth-generation German Jew from Morgan City, became an alligator fisherman – a prohibited food under kosher dietary laws. His family owned the dry goods store on Main Street, following a trend of Jewish settlement all over the South. As Hyman recalled, “I grew up with swamp mud between my toes.” He helped run the family business and sold alligator meat around town. The Jewish community of Morgan City was small, so his family had to bring in an itinerant Hebrew teacher from New Orleans to prepare Hyman for his Bar-Mitzvah. Hyman, like other Jews in Louisiana, felt more a part of the culture than apart from it.
Spike Herzog of Providence, Louisiana, in the northern part of the state, recounts that he did not feel different from his neighbors because of his Jewish identity. As he told it in his North Louisiana-inflected accent, “We didn’t feel different because we were Jewish, we felt different because we didn’t have two first names. All my friends were Tom Ed and Connie Ray and Bobby Lee. We just had one first name.” Like other Reform Jews, Spike grew-up eating seafood and other non-kosher foods indigenous to the region. He had blond hair and fair skin, like his neighbors, and he did not wear a kippah (skull cap), or tsisit (fringe worn under garments) required of more observant Jews, which would have caused him to stand out.
Depraved Jews among the revellers on Mardi Gras Day
Jews found creative ways to blend the traditions of their neighbors with those of their ancestors. Elaine Schlessinger of New Orleans makes an old family recipe for charoset, which, although blending the Old World with the New South, is not kosher. Charoset is a ritual food item made for and consumed exclusively on Passover, the Jewish holiday commemorating the Exodus from slavery in Egypt 5000 years ago. The dish, a mixture of nuts, apples, honey, wine, and cinnamon, symbolizes the bricks and mortar Jews were forced to make while enslaved. It represents the hardship they suffered as forced laborers, and it is eaten during the Passover Seder meal. Elaine Schlessinger’s recipe substitutes Jack Daniels for the sweet Manishewitz wine, used traditionally. She knows that using the grain alcohol makes her charoset non kosher, but it makes her feel connected to her southern roots.
The third, and final, wave of Jewish migration to Louisiana, brought thousands of Eastern European Ashkenazi Jews to the state in the late 19th and early 20th century, bringing with them a more observant, traditional form of Jewish practice. These Jews were part of what Macy Hart of the Institute of Southern Jewish Life refers to as “the Dixie Diaspora.” Jews came in through the ports of Ellis Island, New York, and Galveston, Texas, and fanned out across the South. In New Orleans, there was instant friction between these new more Orthodox Jews and their Reform brethren. The Reform Jews were concerned that these immigrants were “too Jewish,” and thus would draw unfavorable attention to Jews in general. While Anti-Semitism was not as much a part of the cultural landscape of Louisiana as in other parts of the South, there was still a concern that, as one merchant put it, “we not stand out.”
Fitting in was so vital to a Jewish population used to persecution the world over, that stories of “passing” or being fully embraced are common. One such urban legend encountered in many interviews tells the story of a Jewish merchant who was so accepted as part of the larger community, that he was asked to join the notoriously Anti-Semitic Ku Klux Klan. The hero would politely decline the invitation, but he knew that he was selling white sheets to these same men who would use them as disguises. The irony lies in the Jew-hating Klan member unknowingly buying his wares from a Jewish merchant. The story expresses a deep-seated fear of the KKK, as well as a triumphant sense of getting one over on the bad guy. Each teller believed the story to be true, and in most cases, said it happened to a distant relative.
In contrast, the Ashkenazi Jews did not try to fit in and that made Reform Jews very nervous. Ashkenazim tended to settle in small enclaves where they could walk to synagogue on Saturday, so as not to break the Jewish law prohibiting driving on the Sabbath. They ate kosher meat and spoke Yiddish, a creolized Jewish language, blending Hebrew, Russian, and German idioms. The Dryades neighborhood in New Orleans’ Lower Garden District was one such enclave of Orthodox Jewish life. There were several synagogues and stores serving this insular community.
In the mid-20th century, Jewish populations moved to the suburbs. Today, only one synagogue remains in Dryades with a handful of older members. Several African American churches have bought the old synagogues, leaving the Stars of David and Menorah carvings on the buildings. As one pastor explained, “We feel honored to be worshipping in the house of God’s Chosen People.” There are still Orthodox and Conservative Jewish congregations in New Orleans, but most of the Jews are Reform.
Reprobate Jews love to celebrate their so-called “Davidic” kings, because they hate and don’t want to bow to God’s only begotten Davidic Son Jesus Christ as Israel’s messiah
Jews in New Orleans have been able to be involved at every level of civic life. Judah P. Benjamin of New Orleans, helped finance the Civil War[ read: helped escalate the Civil War for the Jews], and served as Secretary of War and Secretary of State for the Confederacy. (Elaine Schlessinger makes her Jack Danielscharoset in Judah P. Benjamin’s old house, which she now owns.) According to Cathy Kahn, Jews were not, however, accepted at the highest levels of society, which in New Orleans means Mardi Gras. “It is a little known fact, that the first king of Carnival – the first Rex, in 1872 – was Jewish. His name was Lewis Solomon. Of course, he was the last Jewish king of Carnival.” While Jews are members of the elite Mardi Gras krewes, they are not among the social tiers that represent Carnival royalty. In response to this, a group of Jews got together in the 1990s and created the Krewe du Jieux, a satirical marching club attached to the renowned French Quarter parade Krewe du Vieux. They hand out painted bagels, along with the usual Mardi Gras beads and trinkets.
Popular culture and history have helped create the idea in the public imagination, that American Jews are northern city dwellers, mostly living in New York, who sound and act like Woody Allen. As southern Jewish historian Eli Evans points out, even northern Jews are hard pressed to believe that Jewish life exists, let alone thrives, south of the Mason Dixon Line. The fact is, over one million Jews live in the South, from tiny towns in Arkansas to booming metropolises like Atlanta. What about Louisiana? Are there Jewish communities around the state, and if so, how did they get here and what have their influences been?
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Also this article …
We have all heard of Mardi Gras, we know that each year New Orleans has a spectacular celebration during Mardi Gras, but what exactly is Mardi Gras?
It is believed that the very first American Mardi Gras took place in 1699 when two explorers landed south of what is now New Orleans. These two explorers, Iberville and Bienville, celebrated and called the plot of land “Point du Mardi Gras.”
But, the first Mardi Gras with parades in the actual city of New Orleans, a celebration like what you witness today during Mardi Gras, was held in1857 by the Krewe of Comus.
Now you’re likely wondering what “Krewe of Comus is. The history of the krewe’s began as the formation of a secret society in 1704. Today’s krewes are many, and each is has a parade float they are in charge of. For a more detailed description of the krewes and their floats you can visit the Mardi Gras New Orleans website.
Mardi Gras even has its own holiday colors, like Christmas or Valentine’s Day. The official colors of Mardi Gras were chosen by the King of Carnival, Rex in 1892 and he gave the colors their meaning. Purple stands for justice, gold for power and green for faith.
Mardi Gras royalty
A King Rex is chosen each year. The history tells that the first King Rex was Lewis J. Solomon. The founding of Rex was created in to bring some order to the chaotic streets and to entertain the Grand Duke who just so happened to be visiting.
Today, a King is chosen for each float by its krewe and how they choose varies per krewe. However, Rex, the King of Carnival, is chosen by the School of Design, who sponsors the Rex parade. The identity of the chosen King Rex is never revealed until the day before the parade.
A dynasty of crypto-Semitic royals of Angevin descent dominate the Jews’ shadow administration of New Orleans
There are many traditions alongside the history of Mardi Gras that are still part of the celebrations today. Some of these traditions are as small as throws from the floats to traditions as large as the Mardi Gras balls. The Mardi Gras balls are usually thrown be the krewes and are private, formal affairs by invitation.
The entire history of Mardi Gras simply cannot be told in a brief history. Each element of this holiday has its own history, as do the traditions along with the history.
