New Orleans Mardi Gras parades date back to 1857. Many people attend Mardi Gras. Fewer people participate as members of a krewe, and still fewer work year-round as artists and float builders. My cousin McKinley "Mackie" J. Cantrell, III was one of the artists and builders who worked full-time to bring Mardi Gras to life. A third-generation float builder, Mackie's grandfather began building floats during the Great Depression. By the mid-70s, "Big Mac" Cantrell had his own company, called McKinley J. Cantrell and Son and was captain of his own parade, the Krewe of Mardi Gras. Cantrell Floats lives on today, but Mackie died suddenly two days after Christmas in 2021. He was forty-seven. He was more of a brother to me, a mentor, who took me on to work with him for an entire year of Carnival preparation in 2011-12. This book is a telling of all my great memories of Mackie. It is a rare glimpse into New Orleans life from an artist's perspective. As Mackie would say, "It's a true story."
New Orleans Mardi Gras parades date back to 1857. Many people attend Mardi Gras. Fewer people participate as members of a krewe, and still fewer work year-round as artists and float builders. My cousin McKinley "Mackie" J. Cantrell, III was one of the artists and builders who worked full-time to bring Mardi Gras to life. A third-generation float builder, Mackie's grandfather began building floats during the Great Depression. By the mid-70s, "Big Mac" Cantrell had his own company, called McKinley J. Cantrell and Son and was captain of his own parade, the Krewe of Mardi Gras. Cantrell Floats lives on today, but Mackie died suddenly two days after Christmas in 2021. He was forty-seven. He was more of a brother to me, a mentor, who took me on to work with him for an entire year of Carnival preparation in 2011-12. This book is a telling of all my great memories of Mackie. It is a rare glimpse into New Orleans life from an artist's perspective. As Mackie would say, "It's a true story."
From beads, to brass music, to Carnival ball gowns, New Orleans Mardi Gras is a sacred ritual. It’s comprised of many smaller rituals like placing a King Cake baby or building a ladder for your children.
Once, I left my car parked on the parade route to find out it had been towed. I learned that Mardi Gras is also law. Today, I think of it in terms of the most famous law, gravity. If the city is like the Earth, then Mardi Gras is the sun. And the millions of people across the globe who’ve made the journey to New Orleans for Mardi Gras are like the stars in an ever-expanding solar system.
But without the gravity of the sun, where would the Earth be? The answer is: probably lost and frozen out in space. That’s been the City of New Orleans without Mardi Gras—if not lost, then seriously out of balance.
Similarly, my cousin Mackie was like the sun. And I was the Earth, orbiting around the gravitational force of him. Growing up, that gravity always strengthened or gave way due to life’s terms, and as so, it loosened up again five years ago when I left New Orleans and moved to Ascension Parish to become a newspaper editor.
Mackie lent me his big prop trailer for my move. He would’ve helped me move, I’m certain, but it was February and Carnival Season, 2017, when I took off this time. My dad and brother were there for me.
Things worked out, and I got married in 2020 after finding my Carrie and two new stepchildren, Claire and Charlie. My life pulled further from Mackie’s gravity. By that time, he’d been in a relationship with his Kerri for four years, helping her raise Brady and Sophie as well as his own daughter, Mia.
Brady passed away on May 17, 2021. A Brother Martin student, he was seventeen. Young people were in line to the parking lot at St. Philip Neri Church in Metairie to pay their respects. I sat behind Mackie during the service. The pain was incomprehensible.
Then Mackie died on December 27, 2021. A heart attack. I knew he was hurting, but he was always the strongest man I knew.
I feel like Matt Kowalski in Gravity, played by George Clooney. The tether on my space suit has been cut, and now I’m floating towards the unknown. And this time for good I’m afraid.
The Cantrell family has a long history with Madris Gras, dating back to the Great Depression. Their legacy is quite impressive. In The Mayor of Mardi Gras: A Memoir, Gregory Fischer shares fond memories and photos of Mackie Cantrell, his cousin - best friend - and honorary brother.
Every page is a tribute to the man Gregory lost just two short days after Christmas 2021. If you ever have lost someone, you know the pain Mackie's friends and family have experienced and probably are still experiencing. I didn't know Mackie, but I felt like I did through Gregory's storytelling.
Mackie was a Renaissance man, a person with many talents or areas of knowledge. He was an athlete in high school (football and wrestling), an artist, a musician, a singer, a songwriter, and loved books. His favorite was The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas. He could snowboard, rode a wakeboard like a pro, and welds. His artistic ability amazed me. I was blown away by the Flintstone vehicle. I could not fathom how in the world he created it. Just WOW!
I've been to New Orleans, but I have not enjoyed the thrill of the Carnival Ball. I have seen photographs and news reports on the celebration but never really thought about the time it takes to bring a design to life or the toll it takes on a person's body to create these elaborate floats and props. At Mackie's passing, he made hundreds of floats and props. From the photos, he loved every moment he spent sweating over constructing and final touch-ups.
Unfortunately, all parades were canceled in 2021 due to covid. Gregory stated Mackie worried about what 2022 would look like. Would they come back? Mackie's work will be cherished and admired for years to come. His presence will be felt every year during Mardi Gras. And Mackie will be close to those in spirit—never far from Gregory's thoughts.
Besides learning much about Mackie, I learned a few things about Mardi Gras floats. One, the first float rolled out in 1857. And two, the floats have a port-a-potty on them. Fascinating!
This book is a joy for anyone to read!
I want to end my review with parting words...
"I'm here for you. Come around anytime. You know where to find me."