MASQUERADES AND SIMILAR ENTERTAINMENTS.
[Illustration]
The more or less stereotyped forms of entertainment to be found in the
various theaters do not always cater fully to the varying tastes of
the transient crowds that throng the streets of Chicago at all times.
That “variety is the spice of life” is endorsed by the popularity of
the different festivities that are being constantly arranged and that
invariably secure profitable patronage. Dancing, as a pursuit for
pleasure-seekers, is always popular and its votaries are countless.
There are any number of ordinary dance-halls located in every quarter
of the city, and the particular style of entertainment they offer may
always be ascertained by consulting the advertising columns of the
evening newspapers. There are several high-class dancing academies
which, however, would hardly be classified as public dance-halls, their
privileges being really confined to the pupils and classes who receive
regular instructions there. They may, however, be particularized as
follows: Bournique’s academy, a handsome brick structure located at 51
Twenty-third street, where the youthful scions of the “first families,”
so called, receive instructions in terpsichorean art; M. De Long, 78
Monroe street; Horace Beek, 164 Warren avenue, and Martine’s academy on
Ada street, between Madison street and Washington boulevard.
Conceding that these places are for “society”--for the aristocrat,
so to speak--one comes to consider those that are dedicated to the
people--places where a small sum of money is the passport for admission
and circumspect conduct the condition of remaining. If an ordinary
dance or ball is enjoyable how much more so is a masquerade--that
merry carnival in which identities are mysteriously hidden and all
manner of pleasant pranks indulged in by the maskers, whose brilliant
and variegated costumes transform the aspect of the thronging floor
into a kaleidoscopic expanse of ever-changing beauty. The accompanying
illustration depicts the sort of jolly scene to be encountered at a
typical Chicago masquerade--a scene which, witnessed for the first
time, is rarely forgotten until it is eclipsed perhaps, by another
later and even more novel.
Some prodigious masquerades have been witnessed in Chicago, and, though
the fall and winter months constitute the regular masquerade season,
the mercurial spirit by which the population is animated occasionally
manifests itself in a masquerade of large or small dimensions at almost
any period of the year. The most extensive masquerades of all have been
held in Battery D, the roomy building on the Lake Front, in which has
been held every style of entertainment, from floral displays and dances
to prize-fights and dog shows. While these masquerades may be attended
in safety by any one who goes in the capacity of spectator and is
animated by a determination to keep quiet whatever happens, some quite
stirring scenes are occasionally witnessed there. Like a disordered but
by no means wholly unpleasant dream comes over the writer the memory
of a certain masquerade at Battery D, which was a gigantic affair,
given under the auspices of the Board of Trade Clerks’ Association,
a _coterie_ of youthful and devil-may-care spirits whose only object
outside of business hours is to discover agreeable methods by which to
slay time. The admission fee was fifty cents per head, ladies free.
A commodious bar contained unlimited refreshment for the revelers,
who were of all classes, from the young “chippie” of the cheap dry
goods shops and her red-necktied escort to the opulent banker and his
friends who viewed the fun from the galleries. The variety of costumes
was simply infinite. There were clowns, knights, devils, harlequins,
kings, princes, queens, shepherdesses, queens of hearts, fairy-maids,
witches; in fact, every sort of character it is possible to imagine.
The fun commenced at eight o’clock and continued until--well they say
it was about noon the next day when the music finally stopped and
the last of the revelers disappeared. Some of the scenes that were
witnessed were simply too wonderful for description. After midnight,
when the musicians as well as the maskers found themselves vinously
fortified to sufficient extent, all formality was dispensed with and
care thrown to the winds. Frolicsome gentlemen turned somersaults
and handsprings, landing not infrequently with their feet in the
stomachs of their friends, and equally frolicsome ladies indulged in
high-kicking contests and other acrobatic feats that materially added
to the spirit of the occasion. And fights? Well, fights were quite
numerous but not very deadly. A soft blow or two exchanged, maybe, and
then the combatants, animated by the general hilarity, kissed and made
up with charming good-nature and _abandon_. Nobody bore any malice.
A gentleman who punched another gentleman was promptly forgiven and
the reconciliation sealed with a drink. The gentleman who got punched
as a rule got even by punching somebody else. People who were knocked
down and walked upon got up with a lenient smile on their faces and at
the earliest opportunity walked on other people. Once only was there
cause to fear a serious affray. A young man of very good family and
great wealth succeeded in incurring the displeasure of a band of very
tough citizens from some region near Canal street district. His offense
consisted solely in his wearing a swallow-tail coat. Be that as it may,
he was backed into a corner and gruffly ordered to apologize.
[Illustration: THE MASQUERADER’S DREAM.]
“Apologize for what?” he asked. The leader of the tough gang, who was
manifestly drunk, peremptorily ordered the victim to cease “monkeying”
and apologize; if he did not know what to apologize for he could
apologize on general principles. The situation was desperate. The young
man knew it was time to think and think quickly. It was a case of
apologizing for the mere fact of his existence or suffering facial
disfigurement for three months. He desired to call next day on the
charming young lady to whom he was engaged and so he wisely apologized,
and the menacing horde of roughs, who were preparing to tear him limb
from limb, at once retired, in the best of humor, and let him escape.
This, of course, was a masquerade of the lower order. It is only
described to acquaint the reader with the style of entertainment
in which he may readily mingle if he cares to look for it. There
are plenty of other masquerades where the company is more select.
The halls along North Clark street, notably North side Turner Hall,
advertise masquerades and plain dances the year round, some of which
are very select. The finest masquerades of all, however, are given at
the Germania Club, on North Clark street, near Division. Admission is
solely by invitation and one must possess an acquaintance with some
member of the club in order to secure entrance, and even then it is
very difficult. Such entertainments, however, are very popular and much
sought after. At no time, though, is there a scarcity of public dances
which will afford the visitor all the pleasure of that sort he is
seeking, at a very trifling admission fee.