The guests had macaroni soup, braised oxtail and steamed lemon pudding. But despite it being one of the first big parties of the century in Canberra, alcohol was in short supply.
The opening night of Hostel No.1, Canberra's first official hotel, was fancier than you'd expect from a building that had seemingly risen, fully formed, out of a sheep paddock. But Hostel No.1, as it was then known, was the definition of luxury from day one.
Plus, there wasn't anything else around at the time.
Built between 1921 and 1924, the Hostel was intended for parliamentarians and visitors in the capital's earliest days. Designed by Commonwealth architect John Smith Murdoch, who later drew up plans for Old Parliament House, the hotel was based on the original design for the old Imperial Hotel in Tokyo, now destroyed. By the time it opened, Hostel No.1 had blown its budget - the cost was said to have risen to more than £140,000 (about $14 million in today's currency) to which "at least £70,000" in fittings was to be added.
And eyebrows were raised around the country, and the place became known briefly as the "Hostel de Luxe", outshining various exclusive Sydney and Melbourne establishments with its magnificence. Deep carpets and luxurious wall hangings, elaborate bathrooms and expensive mattresses in every suite - all funded, at least initially, by taxpayers.
But this was the 1920s, and Canberra - remote and empty, with a harsh climate - needed something tempting for those travelling here for work.
The opening of Hostel No.1, even before Old Parliament House or even the Albert Hall opened, was the birth of Canberra's social scene.
And for more than 100 years since, it's been a favourite for politicians, celebrities, socialites and artists. Barack Obama stayed in the Presidential Suite, as did the Sultan of Brunei. Eleanor Roosevelt passed through, and the Queen Mother once took tea in the Tea Lounge, Lady Gaga played the grand piano and Nick Cave declared it one of his favourite hotels, staying there several times. Olivia Newton-John, Pink, John Cleese and Billy Connolly have been guests, as have Crowded House, Henry Winkler and a vast array of famous authors.
But back in 1924, it was both a gleaming symbol of hope and faith, and the only place, literally, to go. The quaint, localised Prohibition was finally lifted in 1928, and the place was renamed Hotel Canberra. The city grew up around it - office buildings went up, as did the nearby Hotel Kurrajong - or Hostel No.2 - in 1927. The Kurrajong was built by the same architect and had a similar design and atmosphere, but as the primary residence for the Labor Party, it was never quite as luxurious as the Hotel Canberra, on the other side of the Parliamentary Triangle.
Guests and long-stay residents dined or took tea in the famous Tea Lounge, and later drank cocktails in the bar or courtyard. The food on offer was high-quality, traditional and comforting, the kind of thing you'd have in England, albeit entirely seasonal and so taken at the opposite times of year. A menu from the late 1930s includes creme of asparagus, baked snapper, "sweet bread au vin blanc", roast beef, baked vegetable marrow, Welsh rarebit and plum pudding with brandy sauce.
And the scene divided down party lines; the Hotel Canberra was a Liberal hangout - Prime Minister James Scullin lived there from 1929 to 1932, dining in a special screened off section - while the Kurrajong was known - and still is - as a Labor stronghold. Prime Minister Ben Chifley eschewed the Lodge, and lived there throughout his political career, eventually suffering a fatal heart attack in one of its suites in June, 1951.
Both the Hotel Canberra and the Kurrajong had a downturn in the 1970s, and for a time, both were used as annexes for parliamentary staff in the lead-up to the opening of New Parliament House in 1988. By then, Hotel Canberra had been taken over by the Hyatt. Its relaunch in 1988 was marked by a party to end all parties in the capital. Nearly 850 guests were there to watch Gough Whitlam and Sir John Gorton - a brief crossing of party lines - declare it officially open, before tucking into 10,000 canapes, giant mounds of seafood, pheasant, and rib eye beef.
They may have been aiming at capturing the spirit of 1920s glamour, but the menu, and subsequent reports in The Canberra Times, point directly at 1980s excess and raging fun, in the form of 50 bottles of Bollinger, 12 cases of Tyrell pinot chardonnay, four cases of Mount Helen cabernet, and many hundreds of cocktails, including martinis, Manhattans and the purely 80s strawberry daiquiris.
Nowadays, the Hyatt Hotel Canberra is one of several luxury hotels in Canberra, but has kept the 1920s spirit well and truly thriving, with High Tea served twice a day in the Tea Lounge, complete with sandwiches and cakes on tiered stands, alongside champagne and under chandeliers and tinkling music. In fact, High Tea at the Hyatt has been a Canberra tradition since long before the treat became a trend.
Sales and marketing director Kim Ashton says the 1920s are "top of mind" every day at the Hyatt, and staff take the prestige seriously; the menu stays traditional most of the time, complete with a Sunday roast, and bellhops have special-occasion uniforms. Stepping into the lobby does feel a bit like a time portal.
"One of my favourite jobs is standing by the front door," she says. You can see it in people's faces, when they see it for the first time - the authentic art deco interiors are barely changed from when it first opened.
Unlike Sydney and Melbourne, Canberra isn't particularly known for its pubs. But one of its oldest establishments is also one of the country's most legitimate pubs. The Kingston Hotel even has a proper pub nickname - the Kingo - and a chequered history to match.
It's also born of the need for booze. Much like the decade before it, there were slim pickings in Canberra in the 1930s when it came to eating out. There were the two main hotels in the Parliamentary Triangle, and a handful of cafes, including Caphs in Manuka and the Blue Moon Cafe in the Sydney Building in Civic, both of which opened in the mid-1920s.
By the late 1920s, the King O'Malley-imposed ban on alcohol had finally lifted, and the Kingo became Canberra's first pub. Unlike Hotel Canberra and the Kurrajong, the Kingo made no pretence of being anything other than an out-and-out pub, purpose-built by Tooheys, no less, as a traditional Australian public house.
From a distance, though, it looks like a long time between drinks; Prohibition lifted in 1928, and the Kingo didn't materialise until 1936, but this was the result of the delayed implementation by the federal government of the September 1928 liquor poll result.
But it quickly became a social linchpin for the nascent capital, although, to be fair, there wasn't much else around at the time. The Hotel Canberra and the Kurrajong were fine for politicians and dignitaries, but there were still workers and their families who had no truck with tea rooms and tablecloths.
And despite its reassuringly humble appearance and traditional dining room, the Kingo is well and truly famous, mainly because it's most often associated with Canberra's own brush with literal Cold War skullduggery - the defection of former Soviet Union diplomat Vladimir Petrov in 1954. The Kingo is still located across the street from the Russian Embassy, and was used by Petrov as a place to meet with Australian agents in the lead-up to his formal defection.
The dramatic airport scenes up in Darwin with Mrs Petrov losing her shoe came directly from these meet-ups at the Kingo.
A decade later, Labor leader Arthur Calwell and his deputy and future prime minister Gough Whitlam were photographed outside the Kingo, thus sparking the "36 faceless men" campaign.
When the Canberra and District Historical Society nominated the Kingo for heritage listing in 2018, long-time owner Michael Kouper wasn't pleased.
At the time, Mr Kouper was trying to sell the Kingo, having bought it 40 years before. But president of the society Nick Swain maintained the hotel's role in these historical incidents meant it should be preserved.
Mr Kouper died just last month at the age of 89.
Mostly, though, the Kingo has been a popular drinking hole and celebration magnet for generations of Canberrans, as well as the location of a fatal bashing before a packed bar in July 2020.
Pauline Hanson may well have insisted, shortly after her infamous Press Club Address in June, that it was the place to find her supporters. She's likely unaware that it's also where a large group of senior federal politicians chose to celebrate the passing of the historic same-sex marriage legislation in 2008.
For generations, it's also been the place to meet up with old friends on Christmas Eve, a tradition that began by current publicans Steve and Anne Dawn when they took over the pub nearly 40 years ago and invited friends for a quiet drink on the night before Christmas.
Nowadays, it's still the Kingo's biggest night of the year.
And the food? For years, it had a central interior grill where you could cook your own steak, a practice that was quietly and permanently retired during COVID. But like any pub, it's the place for a rowdy, low-key dinner with friends.
But while Pauline Hanson may well lay claim to the odd One Nation supporter among the barflies, with pork wontons, peri-peri chicken, curry, nachos and lamb kofta on the menu, it's every bit the modern Aussie pub, with not a monoculture in sight.
