A chronicle of nightlife and drinking

January 12th

Came to about 2 p.m.

The damn phone had a ring and ring and ruin my sleep all morning. He gods, will

ever get he sleep? January 22nd. Beastly headache so b-b-deen come. At least it's

comforting to have him look forward to. Blue and tired and sometimes upset.

February 2nd. Home all day. Listen to the radio. That Hitler called, but I did not go down.

I called about 9.30. Picked me up about 12. We went to the Grand Terrace in Chinatown,

where I got to an argument with him. came home alone in a cab. March 3rd, Raleigh came out about 5.30. We had a pint as usual,

but I hope it's the last. We can't keep this up every night.

The diary of a nightclub hostess came to light last night when the writings of Audrey Vallette shot to death

and her LaSalle Street apartment were given out.

The diary was filled with the names of men, most of which have been deleted by the

state's attorney's office. But chiefly notable is the record of Miss Villette's habits, an apparently

continuous round of liquor and nightlife exploits, and the consequent suffering from alcoholism and lack of sleep.

March 4th, Raleigh came over and we drank a quart of scotch, walked over, met George

very young, and a millionaire's son. March 5th.

A friend came over at 6.30 and took

g-k and meet to the yacht club to dinner.

Was I drunk?

Went to sleep at 6.30 a.m.

March 6th.

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