Never-before-published photos take you inside the nineteenth century's most expensive party, which attracted an exclusive guest list of costumed society attendees and ultimately marked the end of Gilded Age excess. For almost a century, the Bradley Martin Ball of 1897 held pride of place as the most expensive private party ever given in America (more than fourteen million dollars in today's equivalent, not counting attendees' costumes and jewelry). The guest list, representing the epitome of social and economic classes, was stellar and despite a major snowstorm almost 900 of the invited 1,200 guests attended. Old family jewels were taken out of storage and worn conspicuously. Thousands of roses and out-of-season orchids were shipped from Florida to the Waldorf-Astoria's ballroom, which was transformed into a replica of Versailles. Liveried servants announced each guest by name and the historical figures they portrayed. The opening danse d'honneur was arranged by "the" Mrs. Astor. Police Commissioner Teddy Roosevelt oversaw heavy security outside the hotel while his wife was a guest inside. The majority of photos of the attendees have never been published and reveal a fascinating cross-section of nineteenth-century society, from members of the elite "400" to actors, artists, and authors who were not normally on the "A" list. The event, held in the final years of the Gilded Age during an economic recession in New York City, was envisioned to give patronage to out-of-work dressmakers, tailors, milliners, shoemakers, costumers, wigmakers, and seamstresses. The ball was, for its supporters, a sincere attempt to boost the sagging economy and ensure the expenditures reached the hands of individual workers. But all the glamor and mystique of the evening were appropriated by the media to paint the Martins in the harshest light and the ball was depicted as an obscene display of wealth. Public opinion about wealthy society patrons was regrettably transformed from admiration and appreciation to criticism and condemnation. There would be one more attempt to surpass the ball, but it failed miserably. By then, the Gilded Age was only a memory, leaving the Bradley Martin Ball as its last--and grandest--celebration.
