As a wise man once said, “Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son.” So there I was on a brilliant sunshiny January morning dancing up Broad Street wearing an over-sized satiny dress with about 2,000 similarly dressed whack jobs, looking for all the world like Dean Wormer’s worst nightmare, when it occurred to me that nowhere but in Philadelphia can so many guys look like frat brothers from Animal House on New Year’s Day and consider it a way of life. What would Philadelphia be without the mummers? Another city certainly.

Mummers are the bad boys of the western world. The Deltas in an Alpha culture. Been that way since the Romans called it Saturnalia. Kings dressed as slaves. Men dressed as women. City folk dressed as farm boys. The best fool became the wisest man. It was an extended solstice festival, like Christmas through Carnival. And any bozo who dragged it out past the end of March was labeled an April fool.

Philadelphia takes care of all that in a single day, or thereabouts. And that single day identifies Philadelphia to itself. The world may not know mummers but we do. This past New Year’s parade clocked in at a record six hours and 30 minutes. It was a cold glorious day. Brilliant winter light shined on Broad Street as if the sun was a spotlight at the Navy Yard. And yet the crowds took a hike. The fans and first timers remained and had a great time. What’s not to like? A wonderful parade on a beautiful day. But there was nobody there. I’m talking nobody-deep on the west side of Broad and Pine when the ninth string band passed.

I know why, of course. Who would bring their family out to watch a parade that might not happen? Or if it does happen there might be a work stoppage? Or if there is a parade it might turn violent if the fat, drunk and stupid parts of both cultures act up. So the bad press about the mummers-City Hall conflict cooled off the size of the crowd as much as the cold day. And boy what a great show they missed. But one thing is for sure, the mummers are as big a part of Philadelphia as any sports team and the thought of a New Year’s Day without a parade is as unthinkable as a spring without the Phillies or an autumn without the Eagles. And the powers that be ought to accommodate that reality into the annual budget instead of acting like the mummers can be put on double secret probation.

Photo of Clark the Mummer by Chris Dwyer. Photo of Fat, Drunk and Stupid by Clark DeLeon.

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