If
he wanted to sell a man a big order of machinery or brass fittings or
something of the sort [says Mr. Crockett], his method was to try to
work through the other's wife, particularly if the customer was the head of some big company. He would invite the intended victim to dinner and insist upon his "bringing the wife." The dinner would always prove elaborate, the wine abundant. But the lady, once she spied the jewels which sparkled on her host, would almost invariably go into envious spasms and could see nothing else. She would express admiration for Jim's jewelry . . . and if he thought
it would help a sale Jim would then not hesitate to present the lady
with a diamond . . . sure that he would recover far more than its costs
in the commission he was bound to make on the deal with her husband.
The
opera was not the only medium in which society found it possible to
display its gems. As society began to slip away from its traditional
moorings, wealth became socially important and the display of it
essential. Thus the private party gave way to the public party,
receiving its most powerful stimulus from Mrs. William Astor. It was
her adviser, Ward McAllister, incidentally, who brought into being the
term "Four Hundred," because it was the maximum number of guests that
could be accommodated in the Astor ballroom.
The
"public party" reached its zenith, it would seem, in the ball given at
the old Waldorf by Mr. and Mrs. Bradley-Martin. It was one of the most
lavish displays of its land in American social history. The announced
purpose was to "give impetus to trade." But the "impetus" was given to
trade not only in New York but in Paris and London and elsewhere, where
couturiers were kept busy turning out costumes duplicating those once
worn during the Renaissance, or in the eras of Elizabeth, Van Dyck,
Pompadour, and Marie Antoinette.
Newspapers of the day (the ball took place on the night
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