The ball season is now at its height and all sorts of terpsichorean carnivals, as the reporters style ‘em, follow each other with bewilderin’ rapidity, and I am reminded of the memorable butchers’ ball and supper, which a generation ago was given by the boss butchers of Centre Market, to celebrate the openin’ of their then New Market buildin’.
When it was built, the Centre Market was considered “one of the finest” of its kind in the world. At any rate, the new buildin’ was a wonder in one way. It was built at a cost less than its estimates–$50,000 was allowed for erectin’ it, and yet it cost only a little over $40,000. The builder’s name was Thompson–supposed to be the forerunner of Hubert O., of the Public Works Department. At any rate, the buildin’ bein’ finished, the butchers all felt good, and one day one of the boss butchers named Mook, said somethin’ about gettin’ up a ball and supper to commemorate the openin’ of the market and to give it a good “send-off.”
The boys were ripe for a jollification, and Mook’s idea was hailed with delight. It would be just the thing, and the idea was put into shape at once, and a committee of butchers was appointed to see to the affair.
The ball committee embraced some of the richest and best known boss butchers of New York. such as the two Messrs. Clinch, the two Messrs. Ryer, Johnson, Whenney, and old Mook himself. The tickets were very handsome, the ladies’ especially. In the centre of the ticket was Centre Market, and over this market were Cupids flyin’ about, and Terpsichore, goddess of dance, and all that, makin’ a very pretty and tasteful souvenir.
The price of the tickets was put at five dollars and five then meant fifteen now. Some were afraid that this was too high a price, but, on the contrary, the day before the ball twenty-five was offered and refused for a ticket. The ball became town-talk.
It was quite as swell an affair of its kind, and extensive preparations were made for it. The saloon in the market buildin’s facin’ on Grand street was elegantly decorated with flags and banners, while the big room over the market, runnin’ from Centre to Broome streets, was turned into a dinin’ room. Four big tables, each seatin’ 250 people, were arranged the length of the room, and Niblo, then the Delmonico of New York, had charge of the supper.
The mayor and the whole Board of Alderman were present (just as they all were at the French Cook’s ball last Tuesday), every judge in the city, and all the big bugs. The bills of fare were very elaborate and had some poetry printed on ‘em. The verses were not half as good, though, as the bill of fare. Still there was some drawbacks; one was the want of sufficient light. The coal-gas works didn’t work that night, so they used a tremendous lot of spirit lamps instead, which gave out more heat than light, and just at midnight, while the dancin’ was at its height, a crackin’ noise was heard, as of somethin’ givin’ way, and a scream arose that the floor was fallin’ in. This proved to be a false alarm; the floor was merely settlin’, as all new floors have a habit of doin’. Still just at this time this settlin’ tended to be the unsettling of everybody. With this exception everythin’ about this butcher ball and supper passed off first class, and to this day some of the old rounders talk about the good old time ball at Centre Market.
Another notable ball was given some years ago by Leonard W. Jerome at the openin’ of his stables, in his then magnificent house on Twenty-sixth street, afterwards the Union League Club house, since then the Turf Club, and now nothin’.
It was said of Leonard once that “he lived in his stables,” and they were worth livin’ in. They were of brick, faced with marble, three stories high, with a mansard roof. They were finished in black walnut, with plate glass. The floors were richly carpeted and the pictures and furniture were costly; one of the papers called ‘em “horse palaces.”
Half as a joke on “society,” and half as a bit of pride and splurge on his own account, Jerome once announced a ball at his stables. This announcement made a big talk, which was just what Leonard wanted. Then, at the last moment, to make still more talk, he turned the ball into a dinner, which was one of the social events of the season. The theatre over the stables was handsomely decorated, and there were two fountains set playin’, one playing cologne and the other champagne, but neither of ‘em doin’ anythin’ very tremendous. The flowers, however, were somethin’ superb–the finest floral display ever seen in New York City up to that date. The front of the stables was illuminated. The sidewalk was carpeted with crimson tapestry, and even the horses were festooned. The “stable ball” was a success.
[Editor’s notes: Colorful financier Leonard W. Jerome is mentioned in several of the Harry Hill columns. In addition to his Wall Street acumen, Jerome was a enthusiastic horseman and yachtsman. His daughter Jennie Jerome was the mother of British Prime Minister Winston Churchill.]
