THE FIRST BALL IN LA GLORIA.
Meanwhile, the sale and allotment of plantations and town lots steadily
continued, until on April 9, six months from the day the surveyors began
their operations, about twelve thousand or fifteen thousand acres of
land had been allotted, besides nine hundred and thirty-three city lots.
Many of the lots had been cleared, and parts of some of the plantations.
Quite an amount of planting, in the aggregate, had been done.
The survey corps and the colonists agreed that the semi-anniversary of
the coming of the surveyors to La Gloria should be marked by a
celebration, and the bold project of a grand ball was set on foot. When
I first heard of it, I thought it was a joke, but when I saw a long list
of committees conspicuously posted on Central avenue, and had been
requested by "Albany" to announce the coming event at the regular
meeting of the Pioneer Association, I realized that the talk had been
serious and that Terpsichore had actually gained a footing in La
Gloria. I was authorized to announce that the ball would be in charge of
a French dancing master, which was the fact, for Floor Manager Messier
("Albany") was a Frenchman by birth. The ball and the accompanying
supper were free to all, but the women of the colony had been requested
to contribute food--and most nobly they responded--while the men,
particularly the surveyors, hustled for fruit, sugar, etc. It was a
cheering sight when big Jack McCauley drove in from Mercedes with the
mule team, bringing a whole barrel of oranges. These were some of the
oranges which had been saved by Jack's "influence."
It was no small task to make the necessary preparations for the ball,
and some of the committees were kept very busy. I was on the committee
on music, and learned to my dismay, a few hours before the ball was to
open, that Dan Goodman, the fiddler, had been attacked by stage fright
and had declared that if he was to be the whole orchestra he would "hang
up the fiddle and the bow." I interviewed Dan,--who was just as good a
fellow as his name implies,--and found that he was really suffering from
Pennsylvania modesty. Accordingly it devolved on me to build up an
orchestra with Dan as a nucleus. I succeeded beyond my expectations. In
a short time I had secured the musical services of Ed. Ford, Mr. and
Mrs. Spiker, and others. The evening came, and like Jerry Rusk, they
"seen their duty and done it." And it may further be said that they
"done it" very well.
It was decided to hold the ball in a large canvas-covered structure
which had formerly been used as a restaurant kitchen and store-house.
There was only a dirt floor, and hence the matter of a temporary
flooring became a problem. Boards were almost an unknown luxury in La
Gloria at that time, but a few were picked up about the camp, and the
Rev. Dr. Gill kindly loaned the flooring of his tent for the evening.
Even then, only so much of the ballroom floor was boarded as was
actually used for dancing. It is not too much to say that the ballroom
was elaborately decorated. High overhead were fastened graceful and
beautiful palm leaves, a dozen feet or more in length, and there were
green wreathes and initial letters flecked with flowers and bright red
berries. Men, women, and children joined efforts to make the interior of
the tent a bower of tropical beauty. The effect was most pleasing. Such
decorations in the Northern states would doubtless have cost a large sum
of money. Here they cost only a little time and labor. I wish I could
say that the ballroom was brilliantly lighted, but the gas and electric
light plants were as yet unplanted, and we had to depend on kerosene
lanterns suspended from the roof. However, as most of us had been using
only candles for illumination, the lantern light seemed very good. No
one thought of complaining that it was dark.
I shall not be able to describe the Grand Ball in all its wondrous
details, but only to make brief mention of a few of the features which
particularly impressed me. I remember that as the people gathered
together we had great difficulty in recognizing each other. We had
thought we were all well acquainted, but that was before the men and
women had gone down into the bottom of their trunks and fished out their
good clothes. The transformation, particularly in some of the men, was
paralyzing, and after we had identified the individuals inside of the
clothes, many of us forgot our company manners and opened our mouths
wide in astonishment. Men who had been accustomed to wear, seven days
in each week, a careless outing costume, or old, cheap clothes of
cotton or woolen material, or mayhap nothing more than shirt and
overalls, had suddenly blossomed out in well-fitting black suits, set
off by cuffs, high collars, and silk ties. It was a dazzling sight for
La Gloria. The men had been very negligent of their dress; scarcely one
had brought his valet with him to Cuba! There may even have been a few
dress suits at the ball, and I will not make oath that some of the women
were not in décolleté gowns; to be entirely safe, however, I will not
swear that they were. The women looked very well and so did the men; all
were a credit to an American colony.
Mr. J. A. Messier ("Albany"), the floor manager and master of
ceremonies, was attired in neat and conventional dress, and performed
his duties gracefully and well. The grand march was led by General Van
der Voort and Mrs. Dan Goodman, followed by Chief Engineer Kelly with a
daughter of Señor Rivas. I do not find among my possessions a dance
order, and hence can give no description of it; and I apprehend that the
others present would have no better success. But there was dancing, and
a lot of it.
[Illustration: INTERIOR GEN. VAN DER VOORT'S HOUSE. (_April, 1900._)]
Furthermore, it was much enjoyed, both by the participants and the
spectators. About the middle of the evening some specialties were
introduced. Chief Engineer Kelly performed a clog dance successfully,
turning a handspring at the end, and Architect Neff executed an
eccentric French dance with a skill and activity that brought down the
house. There was also good clog dancing by some of the younger men.
The ball was attended by nearly the entire colony. This was made
manifest when we lined up for supper, which was served across the
street. The procession to the tables numbered one hundred and forty
persons by actual count. The tables were set under shelter tents, and
were beautifully decorated and loaded with food. There were meats, fish,
salads, puddings, cakes, and a wonderful variety of pies, in which the
guava was conspicuous. Coffee and fruits were also much in evidence.
Never before had La Gloria seen such a spread. On this occasion the
women of the colony achieved a well-merited reputation for culinary
skill and resourcefulness. Except for a few enthusiasts, who went back
to the ballroom for more dancing, the supper wound up the evening's
festivities. The semi-anniversary had been properly celebrated, and the
first ball in La Gloria had proved successful beyond anticipation. April
9, 1900, may be set down as a red letter day in the history of the
colony.
Speaking of the ball and its orchestra calls to mind the music in the
camp in the early days of the colony. There was not much. Occasionally a
violin was heard; and more often, perhaps, a guitar or mandolin. But the
most persistent musician was a cornet player, who for a time was heard
regularly every night from one end of the camp. His wind was good, but
his repertoire small. He knew "Home, Sweet Home" from attic to cellar,
and his chief object in life seemed to be to make others as familiar
with it as himself. He played little else, and the melting notes of John
Howard Payne's masterpiece floated through the quiet camp hour after
hour, night after night. Finally, the colonists visited him and told him
gently but firmly that he must stop playing that piece so much; it was
making them all homesick. Not long after the cornet player disappeared.
I think there was no foul play. Probably he had simply betaken himself
to home, sweet home.
There were many good singers in camp. Some of them met regularly once or
twice a week and sang gospel hymns. These formed the choir at the Sunday
services. There was another group of vocalists, equally excellent in its
way, which confined itself to rendering popular songs. Some of the
latter, who dwelt and had their "sings" near my tent, would have done
credit to the vaudeville stage. They were known as the "Kansas crowd."
It gave me, a native of the Granite state, great satisfaction to hear
these Kansas people singing with spirit and good expression "My Old New
Hampshire Home." I was pleased to regard it as a Western tribute to New
Hampshire as the place of the ideal home.