Corbin Hall, a pretentious building adjoining the old chapel and facing the parade-ground, is the site of the officers’ club, and contains a sumptuous ball-room, which is frequently the scene of gorgeous military display. Through the courtesy of the Officers’ Club, the use of this magnificent ball-room was tendered the Fort Jay Social Club every Thursday evening, when mirth and good-fellowship reigned. During my incumbency in office as secretary of this club, I found it necessary to pass unfavorably on scores of written applications for invitations to these affairs, due solely to the fact that, each member of the club being allowed four invitations, it was impossible to accommodate more than the prescribed quota. I mention this fact to show the popularity of these dances, and in conjunction as a general apology to those to whom invitations were not forthcoming.
These weekly dances had the true brass-button effect, strictly military. The Twenty-ninth Infantry band furnished the music, the grand-march being invariably led by Chaplain Smith of Governor’s Island, accompanied by a budding debutante, blithe and fair; these were followed by the gay and graceful belles of Gotham, each on the arm of a stalwart soldier appearing at his best. During the intermission refreshments were served in the communicating apartments.
The use of the ferry was cordially extended to the New York patrons of the dance, who could step off the boat almost into the subway, where an express could be had for all points in New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey City.
The close proximity of Governor’s Island to the city bearing the proverbial appellation “Gotham” affords excellent opportunity to the soldiers for seeing the sights of a great metropolis. Every evening soldiers in civilian attire leave the island, and on entering the subway are soon lost sight of in this beehive of humanity. There are few items in the calendar of joy which the soldier overlooks,
for his duty has been performed faithfully and he now seeks pleasure with unrestrained ardor.
If perchance, at the close of a drama or burletta, you wander through the “tenderloin” and casually stroll into “Maxim’s,” “Murray’s,” or “Martin’s,” you are apt to see him tête à tête with his sweetheart, dining table-d’hôte; or hail a “taxi” and spin over to the Café Boulevard, across to “Terrace Garden,” up to the “Haymarket,” down to “Little Hungary,” or a variety of other amusement halls, and there you will find him with bells on, in close communion with some favorite chorus satellite, of perhaps the “Folies Bergere,” whose grace along the “Rialto” brooks no competition, whose gowns and ostrich-plumes are the envy of Parisian salons and the pride of “Redfern’s” modistes, and whose long suite is the importance she attaches to her connoisseurship of the best things in life. Yes, there he is attracted like the moth to the flame.
During the summer evenings it is a most inspiring sight to witness the lowering of the colors, drooping slowly with the trumpet’s
notes of retreat, as the regiment stands at parade-rest; the loud boom of the sundown gun, followed by the band’s rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner, and the regiment as it passes in review.
My enlistment having expired at Governor’s Island, March 2, 1910, I was discharged from the army of the United States.
THE END.