THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc. DATE: Monday, February 26, 1996 TAG: 9602260068 SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B3 EDITION: FINAL SOURCE: BY MIKE ALLEN, THE NEW YORK TIMES DATELINE: RICHMOND LENGTH: Medium: 81 lines
Rebel yells echoed through a restored Civil War armaments foundry this weekend as revelers rattled their sabers and tossed gray cavalry caps high with Southern pride during a Confederate ball that black leaders called a symbol of white defiance.
The only black people among Saturday night's crowd of 500 were at the catering stations, pouring bourbon and dishing up black-eyed-pea salsa and sweet-potato biscuits.
Women in hoop skirts and petticoats clapped their lacy gloves to ``Dixie.'' During a slow rendition, men stood reverently, then began whooping and pumping their fists as the tempo rose. After a hearty group ``Hooray!'' Greg Force, an engineer in a silk ascot, approached the bandstand and asked, ``Don't you know the other verses?''
The Bonnie Blue Ball, named in honor of a secession flag, was sponsored by the Museum of the Confederacy to celebrate its centennial. The museum is next to its sister, the White House of the Confederacy, where Jefferson Davis presided when Richmond was the Confederate capital.
A member of the ball committee, Thomas N.C. Spivey, a 29-year-old dressed as a Confederate major, said African Americans had been invited. ``Everyone had an opportunity to buy a ticket by calling the museum,'' he said. ``There were white people that didn't show up, either. Should we feel bad about something that we had no control over? No, we don't.''
Several civil rights leaders had criticized the museum for staging the gala during Black History Month.
Former Gov. L. Douglas Wilder, on a NBC ``Today'' show, had compared people in Confederate costumes to ``jackbooted Nazis.'' Then he suggested that organizers put a slave ship outside and manacle people to it. Organizers of the ball, who had been worried about breaking even, sold out of tickets after his television appearance on Feb. 14.
Before leaving town for the weekend, Wilder, the nation's first elected black governor, said of the ball: ``This does not speak for Virginia. Let this be a measurement of how far we still need to go.''
Museum officials expressed surprise and then annoyance about the controversy. ``We don't want our guests to have to explain themselves,'' said Janene Charbeneau, the museum's marketing director.
Robin Reed, the museum's executive director, said organizers had seen the event as a birthday party and a chance to interest young professionals in a museum that has mostly older supporters.
``We were naive,'' he said. ``We certainly never intended this to be a dance over slavery.''
Reed said he was not sure why all the guests were white. ``One can look at the war as a liberating experience for blacks, or as a reminder of one of the worst experiences,'' he said. ``That's the age-old question.''
Many guests said they were mystified by the controversy. Ray King, 29, a librarian from Raleigh, N.C., wore the pocket watch of his great-great-grandfather, who died for Dixie. ``In these days when Confederate flags are behind walls and trampled on, it's good to see it out,'' he said.
Martha Boltz, a fourth-generation member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, said, ``I don't see why pride in heritage has to be limited to one group.''
The costume ball was held at Tredegar Iron Works, a brick hulk on the James River that was once known as the arsenal of the Confederacy. About half the guests came in formal wear and about half sported period dress, although several women admitted they had omitted corsets.
Elizabeth Miller, 43, an occupational therapist whose gown had rosettes and double-puff sleeves, said she could tell who was serious about authentic attire by looking for zippers, which were invented in 1892. ``If you see a zipper, they probably rented it or made it from a wedding-gown pattern,'' she said.
A man dressed as Jefferson Davis gave out fake Confederate money. Men portraying officers saluted him and introduced him to their ladies.
A band called Southern Horizon played antebellum music as guests waltzed and whirled the Virginia reel. Then The Fredds, a local progressive rock group, took over. Steve Wetzler, the bass guitarist, declared the Bonnie Blue Ball ``the weirdest gig we've ever played.''
KEYWORDS: CONFEDERATE BALL by CNB