Ten Homeless Women Step Out to the People’s Inaugural Ball
Once upon a time (actually just two years ago) Cinderella – also known as Elaine Webber – sat at the bus stop at 11th and M streets, NW, feeling hopeless.
The jobs she got never lasted. Her family and friends had given up on her. And she had given up on herself.
“I was desperate, homeless, and alcoholic,” she says. “Every day was bad.”
But one day, she stopped into a nearby women’s shelter, N Street Village. She gathered her courage and asked for help, and she got into a recovery program for her drinking.
Now Webber is sober, and she has renewed her ties with her loved ones. She stays at N Street Village and helps run the shelter’s dental clinic, making sure other women get the care they need.
Elaine Webber has her dignity back. And if that weren’t enough, now she, and nine other Cinderellas from N Street Village, have invitations to the ball.
The People’s Inaugural Ball, to be exact.
When Webber got word she was invited, she cried.
As this newspaper goes to press on Jan. 20, Webber and her N Street friends will be donning gowns and slippers and stepping out into the sparkling ballroom of the JW Marriott to celebrate with nearly
1,000 other guests. “Can you imagine? That’s the Cinderella story,” says Webber, shaking her head with disbelief as she thinks back to her old life. “There is hope for anyone.”
And that’s also the message of the People’s Inaugural Ball, the brainchild of Earl W. Stafford, the son of a Baptist minister who grew up to found a successful technology company, Unitech. Stafford, who hasn’t forgotten his humble roots, got the idea of hosting a celebration open not only to the wealthy but also to the disadvantaged and overlooked.
Through his private Stafford Foundation, he spent $1 million to rent the Marriott hotel overlooking the inaugural parade route along Pennsylvania Avenue. Working with charities across the country the foundation gathered guests including wounded veterans, challenged youths and homeless women.
“The People’s Inaugural Project offers the underprivileged in our society a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to come to our nation’s capital and join in the inauguration of President-elect Obama,” said Stafford.
On Sunday, Jan. 18, Webber and the other women from N Street Village were welcomed to the hotel to choose finery for inauguration night.
A large room was set aside, sparkling like a magic cave with hundreds of gowns of black and gold, magenta and mint, lavender and rose, some with tiny straps, others with sequined jackets – and tables of elegant shoes and purses and earrings to match.
There were tuxedoes too for the men, along with all the accessories.
The clothing was all donated, and attendees will be able to keep their outfits, said an organizer, Barbara Anderson. Some donors tucked special notes of good wishes into the items they gave, she said.
“People have been absolutely wonderful,’ said Anderson. Ball goers will also get manicures, and help with makeup and hairstyling, she explained amid the whirl. All around her, women were shyly, anxiously, raptly leafing through the racks of shimmering dresses.
Quiet Mary Abe, who came to N Street during a battle with cancer, and now remains there working at N Street’s Wellness Center, quickly found the perfect outfit, an elegant silver grey suit. She held it up proudly.
“It was the first one I tried,” she said. “I love it.”
Emily Miller, also of N Street, took a deep pink gown with a matching stole from the rack and gathered it up lovingly.
“I’m done,” she said. “It’s gonna fit.”
And she was right. When she stepped from the dressing room and pirouetted, beaming, the dress flowed like it was made for her.
But Webber was having trouble. She tried dress after dress, but nothing seemed right.
“I’m not feeling it,” she said, sounding bewildered, as she once again returned to search through the racks. Then she spotted an outfit she had not noticed before, a silk top with delicate flowers, worked in beads of silver and bronze and mahogany and a long silk skirt, a dark and lustrous brown.
The worry started to lift from her face. The dress worked.
Now for shoes. They needed to be comfortable.
“We are supposed to be dancing until 1 a.m.,” she said. But she would be needed at the dental clinic the next morning, she added with a smile.
“I have to work on Wednesday. They are expecting me there at 9 o’clock.”
A pair of satiny brown Bruno Maglis with heels not too high and gold beads on the toes just called her name. And a little evening purse.
Laurie Williams, N Street’s food service manager looked Webber over from head to toe. She cocked a critical eye. Adjusted a seam here and there. And finally nodded approvingly.
Webber sighed.
“I’m ready.”
