Enter Woodrow Wilson. The dour academic refused to have a ball after his 1913 inauguration, saying it was inappropriate for such a solemn occasion. "He considered it toofrivolous, too undignified," says Anthony. "His wife, Ellen, wasn't happy about it -- she had already purchased an inaugural gown."
A huge ball was planned for Warren Harding's 1921 inauguration, part of the postwar optimism of the city, but congressional opponents opposed it because of the recession. Officially, there was no ball. Instead, the chairman of the ball committee, Washington Post owner Ned McLean, hosted a huge private party in his I Street mansion. Everyone except the president attended.
The trend for unofficial balls continued with Coolidge, Hoover and Franklin Roosevelt. Instead of lavish official parties during the Depression and World War II, the inauguration was marked by charity balls in the president's honor.
It was Harry Truman who revived the official ball in 1949. After the election squeaker, Democrats were ready to celebrate. "It was as much a celebration of postwar America as a political victory," says Anthony.
So many people wanted to attend Dwight Eisenhower's first-term inaugural ball in 1953 that organizers added a second event, and the president split his time between the two parties. By 1957, demand was so great that there were four. John F. Kennedy, wearing white tie and tails, attended five balls.
And this was the real turning point, the moment when inaugural balls became the place to be. Kennedy's inaugural festivities were televised, turning a local event into a national celebration. Viewers saw footage of the new president and his glamorous wife attending elegant-looking parties. Suddenly, an inaugural ball was almost as magical as Cinderella's.
The last attempt to downscale the balls came in the post-Watergate era of Jimmy Carter. The entire inauguration was anti-glitz; Carter renamed the balls "parties," declared that no ticket could cost more than $25, and served pretzels and peanuts. It was a resounding public relations disaster.
It took -- who else? -- a former actor to bring panache back to the event. Ronald Reagan brought Hollywood to his 1981 inauguration: big bucks, big sponsors andnine white-tie balls. "I understand, on the logistics they've gotten for our schedule tonight, that if we get in and out of each one of the parties in 10 minutes, it will only take us 4 1/2 hours," Reagan told the crowd at the Capital Hilton.
Americans across the country saw it all: The balls were broadcast by satellite to 100 U.S. cities that were hosting their own inaugural balls.
The pattern was set: In 1989, Bush went to 11 balls. Clinton's first inauguration matched it; his second boasted 14 balls.
Which brings us to tonight's eight balls. The number is smaller because of the shortened planning time, but organizers say they expect more than 35,000 people to attend. For most, it will be their first and only inaugural ball.
The plan is for each ball to have a celebrity emcee and big-name musical entertainment. There will be dancing, hot and cold hors d'oeuvres and a cash bar. Organizers promise seating areas, but don't bet your four-inch heels on it. The main stage will be decorated with blue, cream and silver fabric -- a formal background for the big moment of the night: the 15-minute-or-so appearance of the new president and first lady.
What happens the other 5 hours and 45 minutes? Well . . .
"I went to one inaugural ball and it was the most horrible experience of my life," said Kranz. "Nothing happened. People just stood around."
Maybe this time it will be different. But it will be, whatever happens, memorable.
