Inaugural balls: glitzy affairs that can turn ugly at coat check

Martin was at a ball for President Bill Clinton's second inauguration when Clinton arrived, danced with Hillary, played the saxophone and left — followed by a majority of those gathered to see him.

Thousands of people converged on the coat check from three balls at the Omni Shoreham hotel. Fur flew, and not always to the rightful owners. Judges, politicians and assorted bigwigs rushed the coat room and banged on the door.

"It was a mass of finely clothed and jeweled individuals starting to chant, 'We want our coats! We want our coats!' " recalled Martin, a Washington-area voice-over performer. "There were elderly women in this crowd, and they weren't going down without a fight."

Police were called, and the mob was sent out in the freezing cold, coatless.

It wasn't the first time an inaugural coat check turned ugly, and it's just one of the indignities that insiders say come with the territory at soirees that cost hundreds or thousands of dollars on inauguration night.

If you're eager to attend a ball for President-elect Barack Obama on Jan. 20, consider: Balls can be so crowded that sequins and jewelry become entangled on the dance floor. One misstep and you could be crippled by a misplaced stiletto. Food is hard to come by — some remember it fondly, while others ask, "Food?" The line for alcohol would be unbearable, if standing on the dance floor wasn't essentially like waiting in line.

"It's like a massive high school prom is the only way I can describe it, in terms of the crush of people and the level of sophistication," said Sheila Tate, who was press secretary to Nancy Reagan. "It's just packed."

Tate has witnessed two coat- check riots at Republican balls. It happened at President Ronald Reagan's ball in 1985, when many women left in minks not their own, and again in 1989 for President George H.W. Bush at a ball with what became known as "The Bastille Day Coat Check."

"People were screaming and yelling. Some people had to go back the next day. Some people never got their coats," Tate said.

In that, they were following a fine tradition. Abraham Lincoln lost his hat at Zachary Taylor's ball in 1849, according to historian Jim Bendat. (No word on how one might misplace a stovepipe.)

"Twenty years later, for Ulysses S. Grant's first inauguration, illiterate workers mixed up everyone's coat claims, leading to fights among the men and tears among the women," said Bendat, author of "Democracy's Big Day: The Inauguration of Our President 1978-2009."

It could be worse: For Grant's second inauguration, somebody forgot to heat the room where the inaugural ball was held. "Everybody was tripping over one another because they were all bundled up," Bendat said.

While the coat-check problem was solved, the canaries brought in to chirp out entertainment froze to death.

This year, with 10 official balls and what's shaping up to be more unofficial parties than ever, the coat situation could be even more precarious. Peter Grazzini of Washington-based Perfect Settings bought an extra 250 coat racks and is still short 250 that he hopes to bring in from Chicago along with another 12,000 chairs.

"Our industry has kind of learned from the past that unfortunately you just have to make the decision to buy more. The sad thing is you only need them every four years," he said.

Grazzini thinks he'll have enough for his more than 200 events over inauguration weekend, including a party for Google and events at several museums. But that's mostly because "anybody in their right mind won't bring their coat to an inaugural event."

Going coatless works in good weather, but that's rare in Washington in January. One year, Tate said, her eyelids froze shut. Tate's strategy is to keep her coat with her — or, better yet, skip the ball.

"It's like a massive high school prom is the only way I can describe it, in terms of the crush of people and the level of sophistication."

Sheila Tate,

former press secretary to Nancy Reagan