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bad B.O. Other than that we watched only, and it was more fun than dancing. Our friend said he was a foreman at the paper mill and was due at work at 11PM - but he ran way beyond that time unworried - "I'm a foreman over there. What the hell!" During one visit to our car for a nip (out of a bottle of scotch raw - ugh!) we saw the door of the car parked ahead of us open and a burly, baggy dark figure staggered out, stumbled two or three steps, fell to his knees, staggered along on his knees a few feet, then fell in a heap on his face - drunk as a coot! He stood up, looking as though his pants were falling down, relieved himself and then reeled off toward the hall. Later we saw him in the anteroom of the hall and he wasn't bad looking and was acting pretty well for his condition. In the hall, the crowd was gay but well behaved. It was a terrific melee of varied dancing, all styles, that left me appalled at the idea of even venturing out into the crush. There were all types from stalwart English stock to dark, gangling big nosed Frenchmen - Lil Abners, Daisy Maes, everything. We saw the Soldier's Joy, Halls of Victory, quadrilles, waltzs, foxtrots, half times. In some of the square dances, it was fascinating to watch a few of the country boys and girls who really knew their stuff - beautifully graceful and accurate and in perfect time. One little rat faced man with a big buxom partner we nicknamed, "Dick de [[blank]]" - and could he wheel around! He was a typical Lil Abner character. Another reminded us strongly of Fred Gantt at Cleveland - he was a whirler; once he and his partner fell down with a thud, picked themselves up unfazed and romped off in the torrent whirling by, all grinning.