Royal Heart Ball Doesn’t Miss a Beat

The pulse of benefit-going San Diego quickened momentarily Saturday when auctioneer extraordinaire Bob Arnhym invited some of the 400 people in the U.S. Grant grand ballroom to make “margarine monarchs” of themselves by donning the red velvet crowns that centered the tables.

Arnhym’s gesture was just one of the jovial jests that made the first-ever Royal Heart Ball, given by the San Diego County Chapter of the American Heart Assn., a particularly pulsating party. A countywide congregation of cardiologists made up the bulk of the guest list, which was headed by special guest Dr. Norman Shumway of Stanford University, a pioneer in cardiovascular and heart transplant surgery.

The city’s first official Heart Ball, the third contender in as many weeks to seek placement on the annual fund-raising calendar, is the local AHA chapter’s attempt to copy the success enjoyed by other chapters. The most recent such events given in Dallas and Atlanta, where the parties have been established for some time, earned in excess of $400,000 each; local chapter Executive Director David Markiewicz estimated that Saturday’s inaugural event would net between $25,000 and $40,000, all of it earmarked for research.

The theme, which united the medical with the medieval, was unusual to say the least, and was executed with fervor by the sizeable committee. Decorations Chairwoman Susan Eddington said that the idea of a “royal” ball built around a theme of hearts had originally suggested an Alice in Wonderland party, but that the focus ultimately shifted to the fantasy of a night spent feasting in an English king’s great hall.

Any of the eight Henrys would have found the setting familiar, since the hotel lobby, grand staircase and ballroom were populated by heralds and hung with great banners; the Old Globe Theatre, which keeps such things on hand for the production of Shakespeare’s works, loaned both the costumes and props. Metallic confetti that imitated rose petals covered the stairways, a carriage had been spirited into the lobby, a massive suit of armor posed shyly on the landing and garlands of greenery snaked around pillars and banisters.

For all that, the audience seemed mostly to notice itself. “This event has brought the medical community together under the umbrella of the Heart Assn.,” Markiewicz said. “These doctors came to see Dr. Shumway, but they seem to be enjoying meeting one another. It’s surprising how many of these physicians have never had a chance to meet.”

“You never see cardiologists at balls; they’re overworked,” said an insider. “But tonight’s a real networking opportunity, and the conversations are something to hear. Most of them seem to be talking about valve jobs. And you can predict who in the county is most desperate to get into heart transplants by their presence at the Heart Ball.”

A few hearts in the room seemed to miss a beat when local AHA board President Dr. Laurence Favrot said, “In 20 to 30 years we hope heart disease will be a thing of the past,” a goal that he jocularly noted would curtail the careers of many of those present. However, the cardiologists and others pumped up their heart rates again by stepping out to the band Signed, Sealed and Delivered, which rocked royally until midnight.

Chairwoman Diana Silva, who had not been expected to attend, did address the audience during dinner. Absentee chairpersons are in any case a rarity, but Silva would have been forgiven; the previous Tuesday, she delivered the child that she learned she was bearing just days after accepting the party’s head position. “For nine months, Diana kept saying that she wondered which would come first, the baby or the ball,” said AHA spokesman Francine Phillips. “They were predicted to arrive simultaneously.”

But virtually all the ball’s details were cemented in place well before Silva checked into the maternity ward. Among them was the menu, a predominately piscatorial affair which Phillips said directly reflected the sponsoring organization’s dietary dicta; the AHA national headquarters in Dallas insists that its menu guidelines be followed at all functions. The result was a sort of mousse of sole and rockfish, followed by a simple salad, baked salmon with steamed vegetables and a dessert of poached egg whites in amaretto sauce.

The evening’s other main attractions were the silent and live auctions. In the latter, auctioneer Arnhym disposed of a luncheon in a private railway car, getaways to San Francisco and Denver, and a glamorous procession of mink, fox and raccoon coats, which alone helped add some $8,000 to the event’s net proceeds.

The critical care and non-invasive departments at Sharp Memorial Hospital booked a total of three tables; Mercy Hospital accounted for two, and Scripps Clinic and Alvarado and Grossmont hospitals booked one each.

Among guests were Ellen and Dr. Stuart Jamieson, Rita and Chancellor Richard Atkinson, Cindy and Brian Gowland, Patty and Richard Brooks, Carolyn and Dr. Jack Farris, Jeanette and Dr. Kirk Peterson, Patti and Dan Evatt, Jane and Dr. John Barrons, Diane and Peter Larrabee, Dr. Cynthia Stuenkel and Dr. Brian Jaski, Pat and Dan Pegg, and Hope and Henry Tileston.

With the pillars and ceiling of the Top of the Kingston swathed in white gauze, and dream-like topiaries of gnarled green trunks topped by explosions of pink roses, the only added touch that Friday’s “Bal Masque” might have needed was a magic flute to guide the 200 guests through the evening’s mysteries.

“The Magic of Mozart,” the second annual gala given by the Mainly Mozart Festival, took over the top floor of the Kingston Hotel (the gala’s principal corporate sponsor) to both inaugurate its 1990 season and to exude a certain confidence about the fledgling performing arts organization’s future. Music Director David Atherton, on the eve of a flight to Hong Kong, attended to tell the audience that the festival’s second season “will see a tremendously high level of music-making.”

Atherton was one of several who carried or wore masks; among others in fine feathers were Mainly Mozart president Donald Worley and his wife, Tricia.

“It’s kind of fun to have a masked ball, since it’s part of the Mozart era,” said Chairman D’Neane Wilkinson, who carried out her theme with elegantly understated arrangements that included the Cafe Society stylings of pianist Barry Levich and his band.