We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
series of "tango" nuptials. Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt and her friends opened a cafeteria-lunch-dansant for "poor working girls" on top of the Strand Theater and served as waitresses so the city's stenographers might have a taste of cabaret at a modest price. Society had found something more lively than old-fashioned charity or evenings devoted to whist.
Play started with the cocktail hour; after cocktails, theatre. Then an hour or so in a restaurant cafe, dancing and dining, then a tour of the drinking spots where you saw everyone and were seen: Murray's, with its revolving dance floor, the Claridge, the New Yorker Roof, that was the itinerary; then Rector's, Churchill's or Reisenweber's, the 400 Club after the regular rooms closed, until 4 a.m.; breakfast at Ciro's or Jack's and to bed about six. To vary the "monotony" there were such downtown Bohemian spots as Joel's, Joe Brown's or Walter Sweeney's. Money of course was no object, good dance bands were, and hotels like the Astor had pulled apart their main dining rooms to lay large dance floors.
Playboys these rich young men, they played golf and the horses as well as Wall Street, drove Marmons, Maxwells, Cadillacs and Stutz Bearcats, Isottas, and Mercedes-Benz. They had been born with wealth, they were used to it; wealth loaned them an ease and an air of superiority.
Mae had never met this breed before. That dominating Jay O'Brien had taken the dance away from her, for a moment taken her self. It was a relief to have it back, to be tying on her dancing shoes, running out to do her rhumba.
How was one to deal with such men? It was fun to have them pursue you, to listen to their glib catch phrases and pretend they meant every word, but she didn't like being grabbed and fettered. She could sense their eyes now, following her. She whirled, stepped away, lost them, and just as well. For her there was something beyond anything they knew — this path of light with the gold dust dancing. Here in this path nothing existed except Mae Murray.
15