Everyone else had on heavy jackets and flannel suits. It was a rotten night in the middle of January, but I wore a light cord coat. Thomas, but I lost the list and never met any of them. I recall Peterson giving me a list of people to look up when I got to St. So was Duke Peterson, who had just come back from the Virgin Islands. Art Millick, the most vicious cab driver in New York, was there. Phil Rollins, who'd worked with me, was paying for the ale, and I was swilling it down, trying to get drunk enough to sleep on the plane. I did some drinking there on the night I left for San Juan. I often drank there, but I was never accepted because I wore a tie. My apartment in New York was on Perry Street, a five minute walk from the White Horse.
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