The Jazz That Knew Too Much

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2026-06-01 02:59:58 -

1 Autumn in 1925 did not arrive gently on Long Island. It came like a thief, slipping in through the fog that rolled off the Atlantic and settling over the manicured lawns and white-columned estates like a shroud. Charles Daniels stood on the deck of the ferry, gripping the rail as the vessel pitched through choppy waters. His stomach turned. He hated boats. He hated most things, actually,...

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