And when, on the night of October 12, the four thousand chosen people succeeded in fitting themselves into the Academy of Music, another thousand un-chosen succeeded in joining them. Never had there been such groveling, such angling, such pleading for invitations. The select planning committee faced the invidious task of deciding just who in New York society was worthy of meeting the Prince of Wales. Could there not be a ball to welcome him to New York? His Royal Highness had just left Canada, where he had been to so many banquets. A banquet had been proposed, but this idea was dimly received by the Prince’s suite. The upper-class welcome was fancier, though no less hysterical. That was his greeting from the democratic masses. He was Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, and as his open barouche bowled down the street, the crowds cheered and waved their welcome. They were waiting to catch a glimpse of the latest distinguished visitor to their metropolis, a slender, fair-haired nineteen-year-old who had captured the imagination of the populace. On a bright fall day in 1860, three hundred thousand people, nearly half the population of New York City, stood jostling each other and craning their necks on either side of Broadway.
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