While the year is a little fuzzy, the memory of the Batman float going up in flames is one I'll never forget.
It was either 1966 or 1967. The first episode of the "Batman" television series — undoubtedly the inspiration for the float — aired in January 1966. So it’s possible that the incident occurred that same year, though the Batman craze would only have been in its incipient stages by Carnival season. But whether it was 1966 or a year later, by which time the national Batman obsession was in full flower, it did happen. I know. I was there. And though I was only 8 or 9 at the time, I can still see the surreal drama unfolding as clearly as if it happened yesterday.
My father, born and reared in comparatively tranquil Mississippi, was thoroughly disinclined to brave the wilds of the New Orleans French Quarter or even Canal Street during Mardi Gras. He had heard enough stories about naked revelers, pickpockets and miscreants with razor blades fastened to their shoes to know to keep his family well clear of what sounded to him like a drunken street orgy.
On the other hand, the idea of taking the wife and kids on a short drive up the river from Baton Rouge to watch a little parade in the lazy, benign village of New Roads seemed a safe bet.
Beyond the float incident, I don’t remember a great deal else about the day or the parade. I do recall my excitement when I recognized Baton Rouge television personality “Buckskin Bill” Black rolling past on a float sponsored by the old Holsum bakery, for which he was an occasional pitchman. As I recall, instead of beads and trinkets, Buckskin Bill was throwing miniature loaves of Holsum bread to the appreciative paradegoers. I also remember, oddly, that the “beads” we caught that day were actually just penne pasta threaded on kite string and painted with tempera. Life was simpler then — at least in New Roads.
Not long after the Holsum float had rolled past, the spectators assembled in our vicinity became aware of a commotion four or five floats back in the procession. Shading our eyes from the sun, we quickly saw the reason: A Batman-themed float, swathed in black and blue crepe paper and carrying eight or 10 children portraying the Dynamic Duo and sundry other Batman characters, was thoroughly ablaze. It had been ignited no doubt by a cigarette butt flipped carelessly away by some reveler.
We watched in disbelief as the terrified children leapt from the rolling inferno into the outstretched arms of adults trotting frantically alongside.
Then, once all the costumed riders had jumped clear and the floats ahead of the Batman entry had turned hurriedly onto side streets to avoid similar fates, the panicked driver towing the flaming float inexplicably floored the accelerator and streaked maniacally past the foolish spectators still lining the parade route, gawking at the spectacle.
This ill-considered maneuver, of course, only fanned the flames and exacerbated the hazard. I vividly remember feeling the intense heat as the crepe-paper fireball flew past us.
The other details are fuzzy, but I’m fairly certain no one was injured that day, and I doubt that any lawsuits were filed. If I’ve misremembered one or two particulars, I plead the ravages of advancing age.
One thing is certain, though: The Great Batman Float Conflagration (as I have come to call it) is a fact of history. I know. I was there.
— Hardy lives in Denham Springs