Now that I'm bigger than Donald Trump, I thought it was time to step out and hobnob with the city's elite, so on Sat evening I attended the Stop the Wrecking Ball Ball at the Liederkranz Hall on South Clinton Ave.
Hosted by the Trenton Historical Society, the Stop the Wrecking Ball Ball raises money to preserve Trenton's diverse architectural legacy. Due to its current sad state, many interesting buildings in Trenton have been allowed to slowly rot prior to a speedy demolition by real estate developers who want to toss up more office space. Like we need more state office space downtown. Trenton is the state capitol; thus, there's a lot of state offices--80% of the buildings are state offices. The trouble is the state pays no local property tax, so no revenue comes in for services and schools and whatnot. And lord knows all those state worker bees don't want to actually *live* in Trenton. It's too scary. So woebegone Trenton remains woebegone.
The Liederkranz Hall was a very cool venue. It was originally the clubhouse or whatever for a German singing society; next it became a furniture warehouse and then it was abondoned for some number of years before being resurrected by a public relations firm that's now slumming in Trenton. The cocktail party was on the unrenovated first floor, a large drafty room with rustic brick walls, a worn wood floor, and ceilings too high to see in the gloom. The caterers had set up several hors d'oeurves stations around the room--a shiskabob area, a root vegetable area, and a desserts area. The food was pretty good, but as always I was distracted by the open bar and a big bottle of top-shelf vodka. I topped off my drink about every 10 minutes, for free hee heeee! By the end of the night I was successfully tipsy and surrounded by olde fartes in gowns and tuxedos. The potential-for-serious-trouble quotient was high. And who did I spy among the gowned and cummerbunded? My ex-husband's ex-girlfriend, C, who was evidently working the crowd trying to drum up paying customers for her photography business. My old pal David, who made a very handsome date indeed, deftly steered me in another direction when I decided I needed to shove C down on the floor and liberate her camera. Party pooper.
Hands down best part of the night? The band--The Main Squeeze Orchestra. An all-girl accordian band, they rocked the house with covers of the Beatles, Joy Division, and a spot-on rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. I don't think the gowned and cummerbunded got it, but I refrained from pushing anyone down because they talked through the music.
It would've made a very good picture; your fist coming towards the camera as it clicked.
Posted by: Greavsie | November 24, 2005 at 09:34 AM