If Rex 2008 could have his way today, he'd be toasted with some Barq's Root Beer.
John Edward Koerner III, this year's King of Carnival, used to run the company that makes that soft drink that's as closely tied to New Orleans as he himself is. But that's just not brand loyalty talking. "Champagne makes me crazy," he chortles.
OK, so maybe he'll have to lift a couple of glasses of the ol' bubbly during his day-long rule, but that's only because 64-year-old Koerner isn't the first to admit to being the champagne type. He himself is just another street guy, as he explained to me a few days before Fat Tuesday.
Though he sold Barq's to Coca-Cola for a sum he refuses to disclose, and lives in a peach-colored mansion that's a stone's throw from Tulane University, he's still a plain-spoken kind of guy whose fondest Carnival childhood memories include running along the streets with his dad to check out all the Parades.
Habitually jolly and quick with a quip, Koerner grows wistful as he reminisces about joining his father at the Processions' starting points to watch all those musicians and members get themselves ready. "You always got to watch 'em board, lift their masks, drink their cocktails and hang all their beads on these little nails, while the bands were just hanging around and practicing their drumbeats. That was the fun of it," he comments.
In full costume, each Fat Tuesday would see the Koerners heading off to Felicity Street, where Rex' floats were lined up to await the signal to head off toward St. Charles Avenue. "In those days," says he, "they were able to throw before they could start the Parade. Back in that neighborhood, sometimes we'd see the Mardi Gras Indians and Zulu, which didn't have their own defined route at that time. We'd find our way back in there, try to get one of their coconuts, then we'd watch as Rex left from Felicity Street. At about the third-to-last float, we'd run, jump into our station wagon, and then run down to the other side of Lee Circle, and we'd see it all over again."
John Koerner wasn't born into Carnival Royalty --- he married into it. Ann, his wife, was the daughter of Dolly Anne Souchon Johnsen, a one-time Queen of Carnival who later taught the make-believe Monarchy how to walk, wave and wield their trusty scepters. Johnsen, who died in 2004, was married to Erik Johnsen, who was 1991's Rex; Dr. Edmund Souchon, her father, was an obstetrician who was renowned as a leading jazz musician, scholar, and (occasionally) a gravelly-voiced singer.
The Koerners have two boys: John IV, who's previously served Rex's Court as a page and a Duke; and Parker, who'll join the Dukedom himself today.
"John represents a wondrous amalgam of of a successful New Orleanian with an equally successful Rex tradition. He's a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of man, and what you see is pretty good. And now that he's become Royalty himself, he fully deserves it," says Boatner Reilly III, a longtime pal and former Rex.
Civic involvement has long been an implied prerequisite for those who would wear the crown of Rex. Koerner, who launched Koerner Capital Corporation after he'd sold Barq's, has been a member of several Boards of Directors, among them, the Louisiana Nature Conservancy and the National World War II Museum. He's a former Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce and the New Orleans Business Council; as well as a former co-Chairman of MetroVision; and he has served on the Bring New Orleans Back Committee. Currently, he also sits on the Boards of Legg Mason; Lamar Advertising; St. Charles Pharmaceuticals; Finetooth, Inc.; and Selltis. At Tulane, where he earned undergraduate and law degrees and a master's degree in business administration, he chaired the university's governing body, and also led the Dean's Council at the A.B. Freeman Business School.
"He loves to get involved and make things happen," says another longtime friend, Jimmy Reiss.
Yet in spite of all these activities, Koerner says that it was a stunning surprise when he was chosen as Rex --- because he hadn't really played any major role in the Rex Organization. Up to then, his Rex role had consisted primarily of loading bulging bags of throws onto the float that he would ride: the last one in Rex's Procession. "It's so far back that if it were 50 feet even farther back, it'd be part of the Elks Parade," he chuckles gleefully. Meanwhile, his wife Ann, who sits nearby, rolls her eyes in mock exasperation.
Koerner's ascension to the Rex Throne began in October, with an invitation to join a friend for some drinks. Having no idea that this would be no more than a simple casual get-together, Koerner showed up close to a half-hour late, to his host's consternation. "He was quite anxious. He says, 'Hi, how are ya?' and just as we turn into his sunroom, there were a whole group of former Rexes just sitting there."
As soon as he'd accepted their offer to reign, Koerne found himself part of the time-tested Rex machine, which this year has had to move faster than normal because Mardi Gras is so early. "They got everything pre-programmed," he explains: "do this, be here, do that, get your boots made, wave your scepter in the proper fashion, stand here, go there. The people who are involved in the Organization know exactly what to do, and they always bring you right along."
Another vital part of the Rex Protocol involves secrecy. As the Koerners were supposed to keep mum about John's impending reign, there was no evidence last week of anything in their house that might give the surprise away --- no purple, green and gold wreaths; no Mardi Gras keepsakes; no gift boxes wrapped up in purple, green and gold ribbons; and certainly no stacks of invitations.
Consequently, says Annie Koerner, she wasn't comfortable with all this until a few days before Fat Tuesday proper about displaying a papier-mache model of the Rex float that her Grandpa had made. It is meticulously detailed, right down to Rex's fur-trimmed golden mantle! For Ann, it's the pervasive hush-hush atmosphere of Rex that is "the finest part of Mardi Gras. I've always been part of it. My sister reminded me of that when she was Queen of Osiris, our mother wouldn't let her tell her own boyfriend until the time was appropriate."
So far, says John, all has proceeded smoothly, with just ONE exception: his beard.
Being the first real-bearded Rex since Thomas Woodward in 1900, and given that Rex's costumes includes a beard, this might seem like something requiring no thought at all. Oh yeah? Well, since the makeup crew had decided that Rex should be disguised and look completely different from his everyday appearance, he was told to shave off the beard he has worn since 1971 and glue on a fake. He has resisted that. "We're sort of at a bit of loggerheads," he explains. "We're experimenting with certain dyes to see if we can get the beard to match the wig. We're even using my chest hair for practice. Makes me look like a zebra!"
An avid outdoorsman who helped set up the speedboat chase sequence from the James Bond movie Live and Let Die, a portion of which was filmed here, Koerner says that, to get himself ready for the Royal Ride, he's had to learn how to tone down his usually effusive personality "because you have to learn how to be Royal and gracious." For our interview, John looks a little sedate, wearing the Rex tie, with its purple, green and gold stripes; along with the Rex member's pin, with its purple, green and gold ribbons on his blazer's breast pocket. As he displays the pin, he notes, "It looks like they steal some ideas off of snowflakes!"
Grinning yet again, John Edward Koerner III warns that his equanimity may well be tested --- because for the next 6.1 miles, he'll be riding directly behind the 325-member Marching Tigers, from his beloved Tulane's longtime rivals, Louisiana State University! "That's gonna be a bit of a strain," he laughs, as Ann, again in mock embarrassment, hides her face in her hands. "I might even have to bring some earplugs. I don't know how many times I can deal with Hold That Tiger!"
