1967: Electing the Moondog
The Moondog tradition—a one-year, Commoner-elected position that embodies protection, celebration, and rebellion—has endured every year since the first election in 1967. It is often thought of as the only “court” in the Kingdom of Grass that refuses all noble permanence, and remains the cultural cornerstone of what later became the Moondog Barony.
Elections occur on the Spring Equinox of each year. There are no provisions against repeat terms, though few Kithain have served multiple consecutive terms.
And while the nobility may chuckle at its name, even they know:
When the Moondog howls, Cleveland listens.
History
The Coronation of the First Moondog (1967)
Summary
In the wake of the Hough Riots of 1966, when Cleveland burned with rage, sorrow, and inequality, the city’s Kithain Commoners realized something terrible was settling over their shared Dreaming. A wave of Banality—thick, leaden, and despondent—followed in the wake of firebombs and broken trust. Freeholds flickered. Chimera wept. Mortals no longer looked toward art and music for comfort—but toward silence, suspicion, and survival.
There were no nobles to take the reigns over the situation. So the Commoners did what they’ve always done: they looked to one another.
The Turning Point
During the final days of July 1966, when the city’s unrest peaked, a spontaneous banding together of disparate Kithain occurred around the lower Flats and Tremont neighborhoods. In those twilight streets, Commoners fought—not with steel, but with storytelling, satire, and the mad bravery of Chimerical theater.
It’s said an entire Banality storm was scattered when a Boggan opera singer stood atop a church roof and sang the names of every displaced child she could remember. The storm dissolved into mist. But the cost was high.
Too many freeholds weakened or died. Too many fae lost hope. So in 1967, a proposal spread from the street poets, the Kinain zine editors, the satyrs still throwing backyard parties beneath blackout skies:
The First Moondog
On the Spring Equinox of 1967, an open-air gathering was held behind the Cleveland Public Library. The attending Kithain—many of them previously unaligned—elected the first “Moondog” by applause and consensus. The title was taken in homage to the Moondog Coronation Ball, once the Glamour-rich beating heart of Cleveland’s musical dreamscape.
The First Moondog was a chaotic, guitar-slinging pooka street performer named Vern “Vinyl” Jarreau.
His first decree still echoes in alleyways and song lyrics:
“No one gets to rule if they can’t dance. Especially not some glitter-boot Sidhe bastard.”
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