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out dancing with us after 2AM but fortunately they turned this "manager" down. They were a tough looking trio all right—two dark "Russians" (probably wops) and a synthetic platinum blond rather flashingly pretty but not so good.

We stood on the corner arguing for a half hour as to where to go next. Ladley was pretty tight—Jerry and I held our load very well and we drank 'em drink for drink from the start. Finally we got Bert into his car and off for home. I hope he made it all right. Daugherty and Hill left us and Shane, Gary and I wound up in an eating place for a snack. Then the two sub-submusicians of the trio walked in—one dark and one platinum. We bought them a sandwich and they departed. Soon after we left and got to bed at 4AM. It was a pretty heavy evening—carried out too far. If we had quit at 1 or 2AM it would have been plenty but that was the way it went—damned silly and a bad strain on the constitution. However, it showed [[strikethrough]] Kitl [[/strikethrough]] Ladley we could take it as well as Kitley if that meant anything.

Erie, Pa.,
Tuesday, Nov. 7, 1939.
When the phone rang at 8AM, I struggled into action. I have a knifelike sore throat but otherwise felt okay although tired. Gerry had a terrible headache—he drank rye and I Cutty Sark—good old Cutty Sark! We were off for Cleveland at 9:30 and in Martigrone's office about 11AM telling him the story. Marti had a story to tell us which he unfolded masterfully and rather mysteriously, which explains a lot about Kitley