There were mini crab cakes and white wine, freshly coiffed hair and baby pictures passed between friends. But as reunions go, this was far from typical. On Saturday afternoon, American Ballet Theatre, founded in 1940, held its first alumni gathering, drawing nearly 300 former dancers to restaurant Josephina’s, across from Lincoln Center Plaza. The scene was like any reunion — except that these attendees included dancers who were some of the most illustrious and decorated artists of their generations.

“Most of us didn’t go to college, so it’s sort of like a college reunion and a family reunion at the same time,” a former principal dancer, Cynthia Gregory, said. “It’s so overwhelming to see everyone.”

“For weeks we’ve been hearing, ‘What are you wearing?’ or ‘I have to go on a diet!'” a current ABT executive director and former dancer, Rachel Moore, said.

An ABT staff member bustled by, reminding everyone to affix their name tags.

“Let’s face it: Everyone’s going to be checking each other out,” former corps de ballet member Eric Weichardt said. “‘How do you look? Are you fat? Did you gain weight? Are you wrinkled?’ But I think I’ll hold up okay,” Mr. Weichardt said.

Because the company has always toured extensively, and still does, many of those in attendance recalled bunking with fellow dancers, sharing stories onstage and off.

“The ABT experience is very intense. There’s no explaining it,” Ms. Moore said. “It’s like, ‘You were in the trenches with me!'”

A retiree from ABT’s corps de ballet in 1998, Ms. Moore was one of the relative newcomers to the alumni list. Former principal dancer Miriam Golden, 87, recalled her performance on ABT’s original opening night in 1940. “There aren’t too many of us left,” Ms. Golden, who danced with the company until 1945, said. She named fellow former principal dancers Alicia Alonso, Mimi Gomber, and Annabelle Lyon, who now goes by Annabelle Borah, as friends she has maintained.

Ms. Borah, 91, also in attendance, rested on a bench amidst outstretched arms and delighted screams, and described her performance as ABT’s first Giselle “a million years ago.” Ms. Borah’s son, Josh, helped her recall some of her favorite co-workers, including Michael Fokine and Anthony Tudor, with whom she helped develop “Pillar of Fire.”

Ms. Borah was not one to be intimidated by the more able-bodied recent alumni around her. “I can still get my leg up here,” Ms. Borah said, putting her hand next to her ear. “I could do it right now,” she said, “but I think I’d fall over.”

Younger alumni swarmed the bar and giggled in groups, eager to catch up. Current ABT artistic director and former principal dancer Kevin McKenzie, with a small digital camera in hand, played photographer for a group of friends, while former corps de ballet member Marie-France Levesque toted a pair of pointe shoes and a pen, planning to ask her former colleagues to sign the shoes as a gift for her daughter.

While many alumni are still involved in dance, others found new careers that veered off in wildly different directions. But in a reverse of the typical one-upsmanship of reunions, successful new careers did not necessarily give way to bravado boasts. Former corps de ballet dancer Andre Dokukin, who left the company in 1998, is finishing his medical residency program at Montefiore Hospital, but said he avoided announcing his new profession to his former co-workers. “I’m still nervous,” Mr. Dokukin said. “I’m hiding in the back. I don’t feel comfortable with people saying, ‘Oh, you’re the doctor now.'”

After the party, the group made its way to the Metropolitan Opera House for a performance of “Symphonie Concertante” and “The Dream,” followed by another cocktail reception and a group curtain call. As the performance ended, nearly 70 years worth of dancers left their seats and headed to the stage. Balloons rained down from overhead, and current company members mingled with those who originally created the ballets still danced today. Afterward, alumni were handed a reunion directory in hopes that the connections made this evening could continue in the years to come.

“We’re kind of like the Mob,” Mr. McKenzie said during the night’s final hours. “Once you’re in the family, you’re always in the family.”