The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-01-26
HUMPHREYS RULED
 THE HESTER BALL
Genial Announcer Wouldn' t Stand for Any Ringers
 In Female Marathon

He distinguished a Fire and
 to Prevent Stampede Had
 the Band Play Something Soothing.
 Everyone who ever went tos box ing show has either heard or seen Joe Humphreys. Joe, he's some announcer
 and besides he can referee boxing
 match. Joe is the bosom friend of Sam Harris, of Conan & Harris, and
 has had Terry McGovern, Young Corbett," Sailor" Burke, and a score of others under his wing. But the boxing game is only a side line with Joe. His forte is being master of cere- monies at a real fancy ball. He pre-
 sides over a number in New York
 every year and his latest success was | the pulling off of the Hesper club
 event at Terrace Garden last Friday. Speaking of MT. Humphreys and incl
 dently the ball the N. Y. Sun says:
 More in sorrow than anger a lady named Agnes landed on MT. Abe Attell
 with a bottle of wine at the Hesper
 club ball in Terrace Garden yesterday l InOEHlnS. SnG was sensitive, Dut Sne i had a grand punch.
 l You can see right away that there
 was some class to the Hespers this
 year. Six fights, a fire and Young Corbett, not to mention two prize con-
 tests and the grief of a woman who deposited a $15O umbrella hat in the l checkroom and drew out a lid whose
 ostrich plumes had been nibbled by mice gave the Hon. Joe B'Gee Hum phreys, the busiest eve that he has
 had since the Mulligan ball of 1908,
 when somebody nicked Eddie Burke
 with a diamond ring.
 | While other folks were cutting into | the grape and betting how far Kid Betts would slide every time they l threw him out, MT. B'Gee Humphreys i was as busy as a bird dog. He snoothed out trouble with both hands and you
 could hear above the crash of the l dance music every now and then his 1 as the blast of the I4usitania's siren. | Without Joe B'Gee a ball in the Ten derloin couldn't be pulled off You | might as well leave out the band. l Even the Hespers weren't sure that ] they could live up this year to the | noble traditions of the past. Oral betting, the misfortunes of Tammany 1 and a general financial depression be- 1 low Fourteenth street made them afraid that the ball would be 8 morn 1 ing glory. But you never can tell. About the period that Papa Time was ! turning over in bed and saying to himself, Well, I guess we'd better call it another day" East Fifty eigth street was boiling over with tax | is and hansoms and each taxi and l hanson emptied into Terrace Gar i den a consignment of short skirted girls and regular devils. And from | then on until the last call for supper l ings.
 There were many familiar faces mis- sing up in the circle of boxes. Little | Tim and Florrie have passed out and Big Tim is not a well man. Tom Fo- 1 ley didn't attend and the chair they saved for Battery Dan wasn't taken. The gay young Assistant District At | torneys of the former administration were sought in vain. Larry Mulligan, | Col. Mike Padden, Senator Jack FitZ- gerald and Alderman Johnny White represented the Sullivan clan.
 1 The wine buyers and their friends upstairs were Morris Rose, Jay O'Brien the steeplchaser, Arthur Herbert, Har- ry Williams and his partner Van AL styne, the vaudeville team and song writers, Big Eddie Reagan, Barney
 Oldfeld, Vic. McGuire, Jim Beattie, Sig. Rosenf1eld, Jack Rose, Maurice Koenig, Frank Brown, Henry Senese,
  Herman Rosenthal, president of the Hespers and Sammy Lewis. Down on the floor were Young Corbett, Jimmy Kelly and a stable of scrappers in cluding Bert Reyes, MT. Kid Betts, who was in and out, usually out: | Showles, the circus man, Al Lippy, Abe Attel Sam Levy, of Harlem, Maxie Blumenthal. Little Buck Moe Sachs and lady, Vincent Treanor, Sam Maas, Harry Oxford, a gay glade from Albany who beat it to the bar when
 eveE anybody called for Johnny Lyons, l SarSaprilla Riley, Bridgie Webber of Pell street, Sad Sam Manheimer and 1 Nanny Manheimer, Pretty Willy Jo-Jo | who used to look in the field until | they put the rollers under the layers, Col. Fink, Lefty and anybody else you can think of who hasn't been pinch ed.
 ] About the first thing your eyes lit on as you pushed through a grove of silk | stockings and made your way to a 1 clearing was the Lone Fisherman. A red liberty cap was on his head and red sash clasped his waist. He was barefooted and barelegged to the knees, and his shirt and trousers were stain ed with mud. He carried a net slung | over his right shoulder For two hours until the prize awards for costumes were made, he stood without moving a muscle or flicking an eye. Girls came up and tickled his toes with feathers. From the boxes pink and yellow streamers of paper fluttered down around his neck and confetti was showered upon him but he stared straight ahead and kept his pose. Near him was the Old Veteran, lean- ing on crutches, and a step or two away was a volunteer fireman in old fashioned helmet and red shirt. Two Zulus chattered and waved their as segais and Father Time, a cold and dismal figure in white muslin, eyed Rip Van Wrinkle, who passed arm and arm with a fencing girl. Billiken, his head bobbing as he squatted on his 1 throne, waltzed with Nora. the boss of the kitchen. and an aeroplane did fan l cy steps with a girl in pink tights. The tough girl and the Statue of Liberty made a team that went past the
 judges and after them at least two i hundred girls whose ideas of a fancy :! dress costume was anything that the police would stand for.
 The judges slipped the first prize ] for men, $50 in gold, to the Lone Fish erman, and the tough girl swaggered away with the $50 that went to the best costume among the women. Rip and Billiken and Father Time and the