The Cocktail Party
Cocktail parties in St. Louis during the 1950s were a big deal. I suppose it is not surprising since the invention of the cocktail party took place in St. Louis in 1917. T.S. Eliot, a native St. Louisan, may well have been aware of this history when he wrote his finest play, The Cocktail Party, in 1930. Surely he must have approved of their growth in popularity.
Mrs. Julius S. Walsh, known to be a genius at the art of entertaining, invited her guests for noon on Sunday one fine Spring day in 1917. She chose noon in order to allow certain of her guests adequate time to complete church services across the street from her house at the newly constructed Saint Louis Cathedral on Lindell Boulevard. This innovative social event also featured the use of several professional bartenders. Mrs. Walsh knew better than to use someone from the catering staff to fill the bartender role. After all, who would dare to ask a bartender to prepare the food?
It is ironic that the introduction of the cocktail party took place on the eve of the Spanish Flu epidemic, which took the lives of over 50 million people worldwide in 1918 and 1919. While St. Louis experienced its share of Spanish Flu hardship, it suffered many fewer casualties than other large American cities because of the leadership of Dr. Max Starkloff, City Health Commissioner, and Mayor Henry Kiel who backed Starkloff all the way. In fact, the St. Louis approach appears as a case study in virtually all public health textbooks to this day. Social distancing and other mitigation techniques significantly reduced suffering in St. Louis in 1918.
As we labor through the great Pandemic of 2020, involving month upon month of six-feet separation and myriad other rules, the image of a lively, fun-filled cocktail party appears, mirage-like, as a potent antidote to the cold, distant environment of the moment defined only by the prescriptions of social distancing. This was certainly not the setting envisioned by T.S. Eliot when he wrote the Cocktail Party. He believed that a cocktail party could be a defining moment for those present: unions strengthened, infidelities commenced and announcements made. Just about anything could happen at a cocktail party. When asked how she enjoyed a recent cocktail party, the late Dorothy Parker replied: “Enjoyed it? One more drink and I would have been under the host!” Table or host we will never know. That is the beauty of the cocktail party!
I like to think my mother had Mrs. Walsh in mind when she planned her cocktail party in the mid-50s on Pershing Place in the Central West End of St. Louis. I was not an invited guest but for a number of reasons I participated fully. The party occurred on a Saturday evening in February. The guests started arriving in the early evening, the men in coats and ties and even suits. The ladies were decked out in fancy, colorful cocktail and evening dresses. These attractive couples, all in their 20s and early 30s exuded confidence and even swagger, as they had successfully traversed the Great Depression, World War II, and Korea. They had seen a lot and they were ready to party.
Around 9 pm I joined the festivities as I slipped, pajama-clad, into my secret perch on the stairs above the landing towards the second floor. From my vantage point, I could make out a sea of people, talking, shouting, mingling, touching, and laughing. I also noticed that cigarette smoke was everywhere. At that time, virtually all young adults smoked, especially at a cocktail party. It was cheap, cool, and socially acceptable to have a Camel or a Marlboro in hand.
While watching the party unfold from above, I suddenly spotted a group of men, clad in full-length rubberized coats, wearing Texas-sized protective hats and carrying mean-looking fire axes, half sprinting towards our front door. No one inside noticed. That changed when the front door swung open with a big crash and a Captain of the St. Louis Fire Department burst into the front hall with his not insignificant crew behind him.
I then discerned my father bull-rushing his way to the front as the cocktail crowd leaned forward waiting to see more. My father cried out” what the hell is going on here?” To which the fire Captain replied, “somebody called with a fire at this location!” This news sparked even greater pandemonium as the guests started yelling fire and moving towards the door. Suddenly, I was in grave danger of detection, perched as I was above the landing. But before retreating to my bedroom on the third floor, I heard my father bellow to his guests: “Who called the fire department?” A sheepish male guest, just below me on the stairs, stepped forward and said “I did. I saw all the smoke and thought there must be a fire.” The fire department Captain responded that there was no fire, only a helluva lot of cigarette smoke.
With the all-clear from the Captain, drinks began to flow. I seem to recall that the Captain declined to partake of an offered beverage. I am certain that the sheepish, smoke confused guest was placed on the Do Not Serve list. I cannot say when the party finally ended, but I am sure it was well after I had fallen asleep that momentous evening.